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Life In a Day



Cross my heart, hope to die

To my lover, I'd never lie

He said "be true," I swear, "I'll try"

In the end, it's him and I

He's out his head, I'm out my mind

We got that love; the crazy kind

I am his, and he is mine

                                             In the end, it's him and I.

The song played by G-Eazy on XX-Radio, staring next Selena Gomez… It suddenly went silent. There I was in bed, laying there dreaming, just like every other day. Oh, I’m so sorry I haven't introduced myself, I’m Bright. Just because my name’s Bright doesn't mean my life was. Here I was in my room, my little dusty dark room. I woke up in the morning always accidentally hitting my hand on the desk to the left of my bed. My mum said I didn't need a chair for my desk, because I already had my bed. At first, I just thought it was a really funny joke, but turns out it wasn’t. Some might say my room was small, but I'm happy to even have it. The best thing about my room is that I barely have to move to get around. My closet was only 50 cm away from the bed's feet, and by my head there's was a window; unlike other windows, mine had bars built in as if I was in prison, it sure felt like it anyways.

This house was my home for 13 years. It’s where I was chosen to be. All the rooms were close together, so I could hear everything, nothing could be kept a secret. Some nights, I hear my mother crying in her room, she screams a lot. The days dad eventually comes home, I can’t hear her at all. My dad always pushes mum down the stairs, but she just cries, she doesn't say anything, she doesn't fight back, she just cries. Once I stepped out of my room and I saw her getting pushed again, she just sat there with her hands covering her eyes. I knew what she meant, so I went back into my room. I feel bad for mum, she never tells me what happened. I never learned to like, nor talk to dad.

I often have to take care of myself, mum is often locked in her room, so she can't be there for me. I don't like seeing her sad, let me rephrase that, hearing her being sad since she’s locked two rooms away from me. Sometimes I sneak out to her room and sit by the door to cheer her up. She likes talking to me; it makes her happy, but I'm not really allowed to talk to her. That’s at least what dad says. Dad really scares me…  

Everything is not what it seems,

When you can have what you want by the simplest of means

Be careful not to mess with the balance of things

Because everything is not....what it seems

Ring ring Ring ring. School. I really don’t like school. People often stay away from me at school. I don't know why people don't like me. The girls in my class look at me as if I’m a dog in a cat house. I don't like being the dog. I've never really felt as if I ever fit in.

“Hey look, Brighty Brighty is here,” one of the boys said sitting on his desk.

I heard another girl whisper to her friend, “I heard her mother is a prostitute.”

“Eww her mum’s a slut and her dad’s a pedophile,” another girl whispered back.

“Hahaha,” and they all started to giggle. I don't really mind when they sit and talk about me, I'm used to it. I've always been the weird girl in the class. The lonely one. The quiet one. The unwanted one. Everybody thinks of as if I'm just there. That I wasn't supposed to be in this world. I don't like that feeling, of not belonging. People send me notes that say I should go and die, that I’m not supposed to be here. That I'm a horrible disgusting person. Maybe all of that is true. Maybe I should just not be in this world, but I don’t like thinking about death. I’m often forced to think about life, how it would be better without me. I just wish there was someone that liked me.

As I sat there on my desk in my little corner of the room, I suddenly felt something hit the top of my foot. It was a wrinkled piece of paper. I didn't feel like picking it up, because I already knew what I would get. The boys just sat there looking at me, waiting for me to pick that horrible piece of paper up. So I did, I picked it up off the floor and I walked and put it at the teacher's desk. I heard mumbling in the background, “oh she's too afraid to open a little piece of paper, just like how her mother was too afraid to even walk out of her house.”

“Hahaha, nice one Ashley.”

“Haha, Thanks.”

They have never met my mother, they don't even know anything about her. I hate it when they talk about her. My mother isn't a joke she's a real person, and she's always been. She never got to live a normal life, like everyone else. You probably think I don't know anything about her but I do. My mum got pregnant when she was 14. I thought that was normal my whole life, but apparently, it wasn't. It isn't normal to have a mother that’s only 14 years older than you. When my mother had me, she was basically the same age as me. She was an 8th grader, can you believe it? She didn't have a normal life like me, well I can't say I have a normal life either.

It was a normal day, nothing special. Mum was waking up, getting changed, eating breakfast. She was just doing what any other girl would do in the morning. She told her parents she loved them and went on her path to school. She used to hate school so much, she described it as a “hellhole”. Her teacher was cruel, every day she would hit her for fun. It wasn't a nice place, just simply because she couldn't afford a good school. My mum was also known for being the prettiest girl in school. She had bright shining blue eyes, with small stars glittering and flashing. With her beautiful long wavy brown hair. She was so nice, even though she hated school she tried her best. She wanted the best for everyone. She had many close friends, and she was just a little angel. How could the world punish someone like her, destroy the future she could have had. The moment she came back home, there was talking. A voice she had never heard before. It was a man.

That was the day my mother got taken away from her home. I never got to meet my grandparents, I never got a chance to even say “hi.” You would think that a grandchild should be able to meet a grandparent, but that was not the case. Not because they weren't alive, just because they weren't there.

My grandparents made a deal with daddy, a deal where even a loss of one's blood would be worth. They signed a contract giving my dear mother away for marriage. My grandparents abandoned her, they lost her trust. Only thinking of themselves and the money offered. They didn't care, nor love her. My mother was crushed, there was nowhere to turn. Nowhere for care. Nowhere for life.

“Bright, Bright wake up. Are you there?” Mr. Johns, my math teacher, asked in an annoyed voice.

“She’s daydreaming again, probably about how she doesn't have a life.”

“Ashley be nice.”

“Hehehe,” the class giggled.

Will this ever stop? Will I always be the target? That’s the moment I couldn't hear more. I wanted a change, I wanted something else. I stood up, and I walked up to Ashley and looked at her. Just as she was about to open her filthy mouth, I took my hand and with force and hit her face as hard as I could. There was this relief that went through me, like when one relieves one's thirst. I felt happy.

“What did you that for, I'm going to have to take you to the principal's office.”

“I can't believe you slapped me, I'm going to kill you Bright.”

I turned around and I ran. I ran as fast as I could, the fastest. I did not stop, not even for a second. I ran, I turned, and I thought. Every corner, every ditch, every obstacle I ignored. All I knew was that I wanted my Mother. I wanted only to see her and hear her voice.

There I was in front of my doorstep. A big brown wood door, missing small pieces of wood. I reached my hand, I twisted the knob and I stepped in. It was dark, with small lights glimmering in the living room. I had never been home this early before, I usually get home at 3:30, but this wasn't any normal day. I heard the radio play softly, with tunes and notes. I heard voices, but it wasn't just any voices. The voices became louder and more aggressive. Suddenly I heard a large thump as if something had fallen. I ran into the room worried and scared. There I saw my dad’s hands around mother's neck. How would dad do this to mother? What's going on? I took my hands and I ran toward mother and dad. Without hesitation, I jumped up and started to bite dad’s arm. He let go of mother, as he did she fell down to the floor motionless. I looked at mother and a tear shed.

“You dumb child.” He took his other arm up in the air and swung it down, I felt the blood rushing to my face. I lay on the floor weak and defenseless, with pain and fear. I had given up.

“You should have never tried to run, you idiotic women.” He walked toward mother with his rage. I took my hands and I pushed myself up. All the pain rushing through my body, I knew I still had to keep fighting. I stood up and ran in front of dad. I hit him as hard as I could, over and over again. All the thoughts rushing through my head. What will happen to me? Am I ok? Is mother ok? Will I ever find my way back? I felt a sudden agonizing aching pain hit me. Dad took his leg and he kicked me out of the way. As I fell I felt a pain. A pain in my head. I started to get dizzy and I was unable to move. As I turned my head, there I saw dad on mother putting his bloody hands on her neck. I started to fade away, only seeing my mother’s hand reach to me. Everything went silent and all I heard was the softly played radio.

Him and I



In the end, it's him and I

Him and I



In the end, it's him and I