Conclusion.
Growing up in a family of all boys, I came up with the reason of my existence, along with every other girl on the world. After my mother died, I was left to take care of my father and seven older brothers, I was only five then, but I learned to deal with it. When my father would come home late at night, drunk, when he would beat me, I used to cry, but I dealt with it. When my brothers were bored so they decided that they wanted to make a game out of me, I used to cry, but I learned to deal, so they don't do it anymore.
I just make them their meals and leave them alone, that's all they really need me to do, that and keep the house clean, that is all I do.
I used to curse them when I went to bed, I used to wish them ill all the time, but I grew out of that. It never worked. I never went to school like my brothers, my father wouldn't allow it; he said I didn't need it. Oh well, I don't care any more. I used to ask people on the streets, but they never answered me, they just spat at me and called me names, so I stopped asking questions, which made them happy. I've lived this way for nine years, I'll be thirteen soon, but no one cares, I know that now, they would care if I die though, they would be lost if I died. I remember asking all the women that I knew, and they never gave me a straight answer. Mrs. Smith, Ms. Reeb, Miss Baker, even Mrs. Sandy, I asked them all;
"Mrs. Smith, why are we here?"
"Who dear, People? You and I? Be specific"
"Why are women here, what are we needed here for?"
"Oh, lots of things dear, we're here to help raise the kids, and to make dinner, to do the shopping, God knows that no man now can shop and get the right things!"
"So, we serve men?"
"No! Goodness no!"
"But that's what you said Mrs. Smith"
"Honey, I need to do the dishes, and I can't with a little girl asking me questions all the time, if you could please?"
Young Ms. Reeb had a slightly clearer answer.
"Women are here to make sure that men don't make asses of themselves, we are here to make them look good, better then they actually are and to shape our children to be proper, especially our young ladies"
"So we serve men?"
"No, if we served men, they'd be able to live without us, which they can't"
Yes, Miss Baker and Mrs. Sandy just said one thing.
"We don't have a reason for living"
"Neither do men for that matter, we're just here, and men just happen to like us here"
So here I am, standing at the tallest bridge in Great Britain, starring down at the icy cold water. I smile, it seems so friendly to me, it wants to ease my pain. It tells me that everything those women said we're true. I told other people about my conclusion as to why we are here, and, well, lets just say they didn't understand.
Do you want to know? Why we're here? We are here to please men. Plain and simple. We exist to create life, which in turn, gives pleasure to man. We do their work, we clean up after them, and we raise our children to be just like them. Sex is how man survives, that's why women make money being prostitutes, man is willing to pay in cash to sleep with a lovely young lady if she does a good job.
It is exactly on day after my thirteenth birthday, I breathe in the fresh cold winter air, I can feel it stink my nostrils as I inhale. The day I turned thirteen, my father raped me, I don't know why, he said because he missed mother, he said he loved me like he did mother. I didn't cry though, no, I didn't do anything, I didn't scream when he touched me, I didn't plead for him to stop when he undressed me, he wouldn't have stopped if I had. Does that make me bad? Does it make me bad to let someone defile me so? Even though he's my flesh and blood, not only that, but exist because of him? I told him my conclusion, and he agreed with me. He said that I was the reason he wasn't killing his sons.
The water calls to me, it screams for me to let it ease my pain, it wants to make me happy. I smile again, and drop my coat onto the concrete sidewalks, I can here the cars slow behind me, observing me, watching. I look up into the sky to see snow beginning to fall, the very first flake of snow lands on my nose. The second it touches my skin it disappeared.
"Is this your way of sending me off?"
The snow danced in the air and was lost in the raging waters of the river.
"Is this your way of saying you forgive me?"
I spread my arms and let myself fall. The cold winter nights air tings my face as I ripped through it. It seems like everything is in slow motion, I was told it would seem this way. I could here they people scream at my descent, some of them yell to call 911, but it will be too late, this was the point. I hit the river full force. The ice cold water feels like daggers ripping at my skin as I sink deeper into darkness, until I finally feel it consume my every impure being.
