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by Frosty Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Fiction · Biographical · #1686624
Memories of a girl, and how time has changed her.
People have told her to be a big girl now. She had just reached the age of seven, and started Year One only a few days ago. She looked into the mirror with a mighty smile, the sun shining in through her bedroom window and lighting up her face, making her feel fuzzy and warm inside. She giggled. I'm a big girl now, she kept reminding herself. Everything was perfect for her, she can now spell her name properly. She loved this new responsibility.

Ten years on and she is still being told that should be a big girl. She is just about to reach the dreadful big old seventeen and within three months school will finally be over for her. Year Twelve... it's nearly over... She still looks into the mirror, but instead she sees a mouth that is dead straight, a face that is emotionless. The bags under her eyes have grown a lot lately. It is way past her usual bed time by now. It is freezing cold and she is wearing several layers of clothing. Ask her to smile, and she will try, but not for very long. She has perfected the art of smiling, the art of being happy. She stares into the mirror and all she sees are dead eyes, wishing to stop seeing, ears, wishing to stop hearing, sagged shoulders, wishing to stop feeling.

Back then her daddy would have picked her from the bus stop after school and walk with her home, and sometimes, if the weather persisted, both would spend some time at the park next to their house. Each night she would fall asleep with her mummy cuddling up next to her, most of the time they read a book about dragons and magic. Her brother was only a small lad, and he adored her. She adored him, of course, as well. Nothing would get in the way between them. Every winter they shoved snowballs down each others tops, just because they could.

After school she walked home alone. For the past two years her brother has joined her, but they never walked together. Her mother is a full-time single parent now, slaving away at work, staying behind late on most nights, trying to get enough money to keep the family going. Luckily, their father pays them Child Maintenance every month. Without that, they don't know where they'd be now. Her brother is now a young man, unaware of the harsh cruelties of life. He likes to keep it simple and do his own thing.

Big brave seven. She felt that she could conquer the world now. She felt massive, and she was very proud of it. She was the smartest and most talented young girl in her class. Everyone loved her. Seven, she thought, my lucky number. My lucky year. She had plans for winter already, even though it was only August, and the temperature was still very warm. She and her best friend would go to the park and make snow angels in the snow. They would even play on the slippery slide. What more could a seven year old ask for?

She had plans to travel to Europe the following year. First she would finish school, then work, then travel all around Europe and finally come back and start her University degree. But now, those plans seemed a million miles away. She had friends, but they were limited. She no longer was the sweetheart she was ten years ago. Her own friends wanted to rape her, then set her alight and watch her burn to her death. That was in Year Six. By then she was living in a new country, on the other side of the world. It was her first year as a proper student there. The year before, when she was in Year Five, she spent learning the new language. She adapted to it quickly, but otherwise, she struggled. Each year kept getting worse. Racial comments and attacks were the norm. And she was smarter than most of them, though she regrets that now.

Each night, she would fall asleep in her mummy's arms, hearing the television downstairs which her daddy was watching. Some nights she could hear her little brother snoring. She thought it was funny and liked to tease him about it. She loved her Guitar. She'd only been playing it for a few months, but she was already a pro. She's also performed in several concerts for her music school. She spent most of her days playing her Guitar.

Her brother is in his room, two rooms away from hers. He has many technical objects in his room. Right now he is hurling abuse towards his mother because she is refusing to spend money for his constant need for replacing computer parts. He's become very abusive lately. His father is the main reason. Only a few days ago, the young girl had her first physical attack with her brother. Her spine was bruised all the way from bottom to top and she had horrible pain moving her right shoulder. All because she wanted the music to be turned down so that she could study. She hasn't told or shown her injuries to anyone, not even her own mother. Her mother was in her own room, which was next to the young girl's, crying and screaming into the phone. It was the young girl's father. She continued to stare into the mirror, expressionless, hoping that she could go to bed and get some sleep. Within five minutes from now her mother would get off the phone and tell her brother to go into her room so that they could talk. He would continue to harass and abuse her. They would have the same old conversation. He rolled his eyes. She would go on, torturing her own voice box, repeating the words she says everyday to this ignorant young man. Soon after that he would kick the wall and slam his door shut, shouting at the empty space in front of him. Then their mother would enter the young girl's room, asking the same questions, Why does your brother have to do this every night? Am I treating him right? What have I done so wrong to deserve this? Why does your father" and by then the young girl had already sat down on her bed and stopped listening. In twenty-four hours, she would do the exact same routine. Day in, day out. Nothing changed.

She never had any trouble getting to sleep. She loved the surprise of tomorrow. Tomorrow. Such a wonderful word. Full of new adventures. Full of friends. Full of fun. Laughter. Love. Life. She slept soundly each and every night. She'd wake up with a smile and eagerly anticipated the rest of the day. She never frowned.

Her mother will lie in bed tonight, thinking of where she went wrong with parenting. She was so full of unnecessary guilt. She cried herself to sleep again. Her brother, still fuming and angry, thought about all the possible ways to kill his father, his mother and older sister and get away with it. That night, her father would spend the night in someone else's bed, a new woman, a new stepmother, a new lie. Since her parent's divorce, her father has had so many girlfriends and wives, she couldn't keep count. Every two weeks her father had a new woman the kids had to get used to, forced to like her and her crap food, new lies, new accusations, just another face. Three weeks ago, the young girl had an argument with her father. She couldn't cope anymore. Her father's sanity and mental health had declined way too much for her to cope. His lies and false accusations had pushed to her to her limits. Five years. That's how long she kept her mouth shut. Never complained. The perfect daughter. But now, with another sister and brother, and suicide on her mind, she had struggled to overcome the argument. She can't sleep. Tomorrow. Oh how she hates that word. Another day, another lie, another life wasted. She will go to bed tonight, set her alarm, and put on her headphones, turn the music up loud so she could drown out the fight between her mother and brother. But she still did not sleep. She's listened to the same song for at least ten times now, but nothing had happened. She grew furious and wanted to give up. Tonight was going to be another sleepless night.

Back then, she never thought of how her life would be in the future. She was vain, innocent, stupid. She never thought that her parents would hate each other and fight. She never thought that her brother would physically abuse her. She never thought that her own friends would want to kill her.

So, now as she stares into the dying mirror, her eyes swollen with sorrow and despair, she wonders about the next ten years. Will she still be alive? Will her mother still walk the earth? Will her brother be in jail, accused of being a serial murderer? Will her father have finally suffered his heart attack and died?

Only time will tell.
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