My mom was a beautiful woman. Long wavy brown hair, bright green eyes, a perfect smile, the perfect body. She was even beautiful on the inside.
When my biological father found out my mother was pregnant with me, he left. My mom raised me on her own and the way I looked hurt her. I had his blonde hair, his blue eyes, his smile. She loved me no matter what, more than anything. The thing I had from her was her personality and she loved it. It was just the two of us and we were happy.
I was eight when she had a boyfriend. He was the closest thing I had to a father. He loved both of us. He purposed to her when I was nine and then he got her pregnant. We were all happy. He stayed when she told him she was pregnant and that made it all even better. He was my dad. I called him that. I never knew my dad or who he was and I didn't care. He left me. Us. Having my stepdad around made up for it. Though, the day Fletcher came home with them from the hospital, things changed. I heard them yelling and my mom crying. It was scary to hear my mom cry. After an hour, he came in to see me.
"I'm sorry, sweetie. I love you so much. I'll try my best to see you as much as I can." He said before kissing my head.
"Papa?" I whimpered.
He gave me a sad smile before leaving. I heard the front door shut and I started crying. My mom and I cried. It wasn't often we cried. We were strong people, but this hurt. After a week, my mom found out she had breast cancer. Though we were scared, she kept smiling so I kept smiling. Then, the worst day of my life came.
I looked up at my mom with a smile.
"Hi, mama~" I giggled.
She gave me a smile and hugged me.
"I'm going in for my treatments, okay, baby~?" She asked.
"Okay, mama." I said.
"I love you, Zathe~"
"I love you, too, mama~"
I waved as she drove away. I waited as the hours passed. Twelve. One. Two. Soon it was six and I had put my brother to bed. Before I could've gone out to get supper, the phone rang. When I saw who it was, I smiled.
"Hi, papa~" I giggled.
"Sweetie..." He said sadly.
"Papa, you sound sad..."
"I am, baby..."
"It's your mother, sweetie..."
"I-Is mama o-okay...?"
"She's g-gone, baby... The cancer killed her, Zathe..."
I hung up immediately and started breaking down. I had run to Fletcher and hugged him.
It was weeks after being kicked out and living on the streets before I actually smiled again, a ten year old who thought they forgot how to.
I looked up and over at Fletcher.
"Zat!" He giggled, pointing at me.
It was his happiness that made me smile. I had smiled at him and he had run to me. He hugged me and giggled.
I had picked him up and looked at him. He had my mother's eyes and hair. It hurt to look at him, but I loved my half brother.
I had a fear of dogs from the day I was born and it got worse when I was walking home after stealing some food from a market. Well, not really stealing. There was a woman who gave me food, but I didn't have to pay. I was turning down Marken. St when a dog came out of nowhere and chased me before finally biting my leg. That ruined dogs for me.
By the time I was fifteen, I had started to smoke a pack of cigars everyday. I was depressed, people found trying to commit suicide. My brother is who kept me going and trying to get me to smile. It was amazing the day I thought I found the one. I was laying on the couch in the alleyway I made the home in when I saw someone walking down towards us.
"Who are you?" I grumbled.
"I'm Seth." He said, blushing as he looked at me.
After that, I don't remember much. I remember it was a week before he asked me to be his girlfriend and a year before he died. He had taken me on a date and walked me to the third alleyway on Marken St. on the right. He kissed my cheek and told me goodnight and that he loved me like he always did. I then witnessed a speeding car ram into him and his body go up the windshield before rolling back down. After, there was blood and me running to him. He had died on impact. The boy I loved and made me quit smoking died in front of me. By this point I was sixteen, and about to turn seventeen.
Here comes the long part. But the best part of my life.
It was about two weeks after he died when I went to my favourite spot at the lake and started kicking things. I was mad. I was hurt. I felt abandoned again. I sighed and tossed another rock.
"Piece of shit." I grumbled.
I had this feeling that someone was watching me. Well, at the time, something. I had kicked a rock pretty hard and immediately regretted it. I picked up the rock and threw it. I was not hurt in two ways.
I had jumped and turned around. With the reaction of being frightened, I slapped them. The boy just blinked in shock before he had frowned and sighed.
"Jesus... Fucking calm down." He growled, making me feel a bit nervous.
"Don't sneak up on someone like that!" I cried in defense even though I was shaking.
He frowned and rubbed his cheek.
"Whatever." He mumbled, a shrug following.
"Stupid." I mumbled, folding my arms and blushing slightly.
Sorry, it's getting late and I need to put the little ones to bed. I'll continue this in the morning. Sound good to you?