Scent of Desperation Prologue

The pain of a loved ones abuse is worse than anything imaginable. Heartbreak doesn't make a crack in the glass wall of despair, I've had it. Nothing is worse. Mothers....they're suppossed to be loving. Gentle, caring....right? Well, my life is different.


I clutched my back pack like it was my security blanket. The red velvet feel comforted me, it's zipper in my hand, safe and secure. Kids strolled by, analyzing my frail looks and forming a sour look to their faces. They looked like they were sucking on a lemon. The faces screeched out to me "Too sour!! Where's the sugar?!" Yes, I was wearing a tight blue sweatshirt (What was it, three years old now?) with Eyeore from 'Winnie the Pooh'....in the summer. Bold and proud he stood, standing out of the crowd. The kids didn't know why I dressed out of weather...but I had my reasons.

I didn't feel normal. I had tight clothing, my hair was frizzy and dirty and my body frail as if it was bent too much it could snap like a twig. My blond hair didn't mix with the emo black and chocolate brunnette hair of the fifth grade. They had long, flowing hair, alond with the right school clothes. The right tees, jeans, belts, everything I had ever wanted. I wanted to be them, some say they are 'preps' , snobby and milk curdling, I didn't care. They had everything while I had nothing, that was all that was needed for me to desire such a high status. The thing is, I wasn't different from those girls. In appearence, yes. I got good grades, kept up with my things, minded my own business (Okay, one thing.), I was a good lil' girl. It wasn't me...it was my mother.