The Lost Queen
I always felt like I didn’t belong. Not even in my own family. I was shamed by everyone for everything I did. My mom would always beat me for the smallest things. Like one time, I spilled some water, and my mom saw, and got out a belt, and beat me until their were welts where she hit, my dad would insult me because of my appearance, and would pull me by the hair if I didn’t do what he wanted, my sister Rebecca would mock me, lie about me, especially around her friends so much they would hate me, she insulted me too.
Worst of all, kids at school. They hated me. They all insulted me for everything. They made up the cruelest rumors. I never did anything, but my sister ruined school for me, and the kids already thought I was weird for my looks, and it was worse when I got my first boyfriend in sixth grade.
I thought he loved me, and truly understood me. But he didn’t. He was like all the rest. At first he was sweet, but eventually he became like the rest of them. One time during someone trying to fight me, I was on the ground, bleeding, I thought he would help me, yet he laughed as they kicked me while I was down.
I felt the adrenaline rush to my veins, and I was ready to snap. I thought of all the terrible things I could do to terrorize them, and suddenly I didn’t feel like myself anymore. I felt something evil take my mind over, until a teacher came rushing to my rescue, yelling at the kids to scram, helping me up, and I felt like myself again. What was that feeling? It’s like I have become someone else for a second.
Probably just the anger taking over. I got up, and started to cry as the teacher walked me to the principal’s office to explain what happened. Yet I couldn’t, It hurt to speak, it hurt to move, it hurt to cry even. I just sat there trying to talk, but I couldn’t, so I wrote it down.
That was years ago, but now I’m 21. I moved out of the house, got an apartment, a job at the Cafe Le Cream, and best of all I’m not abused anymore. Fact is, I love my life now. I have never once seen my sister or her mean friends yet. Which is good, but every time I am upset or having a bad day at work, I think of those years ago back when I was bullied and beaten, and I cry when I got home. My father had Cancer and passed away when I graduated, and as for my mother; well let's just say she didn’t work well with fathers death. So that leads us to here, me in the cafe, working my butt off to get good pay. I am a waitress.
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