.:Chapter One - Cruelty:.
.:Life wasn't ever pretty. Not for me. I lived in darkness, a world of cruelty. A world filled with promises that would never be filled, cruel words that made me sink deeper into my shell, made my ears deaf to anything loving and kind. I was alone in this pitiful world:.
.:My mother was a whore who worked at the bar down the road, Shirley's Place. Almost every drunk in Winnerow, West Virginia went there to sleep with women like my mother. My mother never looked down on what she was, but admired it proudly, as if she were some Greek goddess. I knew from the beginning that I was a mistake. How could one forget they were not a mistake when it was repeated over and over, and you was a small child who was expected to repeat it like a damned parrot?:.
.:My mother lived in an old, beat up house. It was large, but poor. The walls were once white, but the paint was peeling and cracking off. The floor wasn't level and some places rose higher than in other places. My mother lived with her younger sister, Hope. Hope was only fifteen, a lot younger than my mother. Their mother had died years ago, when Hope was five. Their father had died just two or three years ago:.
.:"Not that it matters," My mother told me one evening, when I was about five, asking why I didn't have a grandfather:.
.:"He would be sickened by the image of you. Don't you know that you are a mistake, you little piss ant?" she spoke, and each insulting word was a stinging slap to my small cheeks:.
.:"Leave him alone!" Hope cried, coming to my defense, as she always did. She loved me more than my own mother did. Aunt Hope was the one who cuddled me close, sang me soft lullabies, even though I tried to say I hated lullabies:.
.:"No child is ever a mistake," she said, and my mother chuckled:.
.:"I supposed every child is born out of love also, then? No such luck, baby sis...this little bastard was created by lust and my ignorance to forget my pills..." Hope glared at her:.
.:"He was meant to be born, Donna. I don't care what you say," she spat, as she opened her arms so I could hurry into the safeness of them:.
.:"My Hope..." I murmured in my childish voice, burying my face in her neck. She held me tighter:.
.:Life wasn't ever pretty. Not for me. I lived in darkness, a world of cruelty. A world filled with promises that would never be filled, cruel words that made me sink deeper into my shell, made my ears deaf to anything loving and kind. I was alone in this pitiful world:.
.:My mother was a whore who worked at the bar down the road, Shirley's Place. Almost every drunk in Winnerow, West Virginia went there to sleep with women like my mother. My mother never looked down on what she was, but admired it proudly, as if she were some Greek goddess. I knew from the beginning that I was a mistake. How could one forget they were not a mistake when it was repeated over and over, and you was a small child who was expected to repeat it like a damned parrot?:.
.:My mother lived in an old, beat up house. It was large, but poor. The walls were once white, but the paint was peeling and cracking off. The floor wasn't level and some places rose higher than in other places. My mother lived with her younger sister, Hope. Hope was only fifteen, a lot younger than my mother. Their mother had died years ago, when Hope was five. Their father had died just two or three years ago:.
.:"Not that it matters," My mother told me one evening, when I was about five, asking why I didn't have a grandfather:.
.:"He would be sickened by the image of you. Don't you know that you are a mistake, you little piss ant?" she spoke, and each insulting word was a stinging slap to my small cheeks:.
.:"Leave him alone!" Hope cried, coming to my defense, as she always did. She loved me more than my own mother did. Aunt Hope was the one who cuddled me close, sang me soft lullabies, even though I tried to say I hated lullabies:.
.:"No child is ever a mistake," she said, and my mother chuckled:.
.:"I supposed every child is born out of love also, then? No such luck, baby sis...this little bastard was created by lust and my ignorance to forget my pills..." Hope glared at her:.
.:"He was meant to be born, Donna. I don't care what you say," she spat, as she opened her arms so I could hurry into the safeness of them:.
.:"My Hope..." I murmured in my childish voice, burying my face in her neck. She held me tighter:.