Like every morning, I woke up with the human alarm clock, called Mother.
"Wake up, brat!" She shouted "Get up just before I do this myself!". And as always, her affection and kindness in her voice was different from what normal mothers can be. Of course, something that never existed in it.
I stood up in silence while listening to his voice at the door of the small room. She wore the same old, wrinkled clothes she received as a gift from Dad, even though she hated him. She did not refuse anything that is free.
She is so dressed and finding herself difficult. Since she was little she refused any affection or attention. She thought of giving me, or my older brother. Both he and I turned around without his help, and I preferred it that way. I haven't waited in a long time.
After I didn't even hear your voice in the hallway anymore, I went back to looking tastelessly while changing clothes without wanting to hear your voice. It's annoying. I can't even imagine how my brother managed to endure so much.
I'd rather be dead than live with her more, and in that stupid world. I am not like my brother, much less a strong girl like in the novels I read. Here is the real world, a painful place.
If I could, I would leave everyone. Besides, no one would miss a troubled girl like me. Not even my older brother would miss me. For him, I was just a way out of getting scolded by mom, or being beaten by her. Because of him, I have endured so far, and I still suffer from bruises.
I only serve to suffer with this stupid family.
"I'm going ..." I said already knowing that she wasn't paying attention to me. The only attention given is the soju bottle, sipping as if it were water.
On the way, I was hungry for not having eaten anything. All because of being beaten again yesterday. The street was busy, but I didn't care when I just looked at my feet. They looked at my face, full of wound. I'm not proud and much less brave, but I'm not ashamed to show my face like that, much less without makeup.
Many girls in the class wore make-up, and I liked to appreciate this type of thing, even though it was not my thing. I was never in a condition, so I was quick to get Mom's makeup hidden. She never saw me take it, and I hope she never does. Why would she need it if she just drinks without caring about life, and forgets about her family? There's no reason.
She has already lost herself in the abyss.
I can't take your hand.
Even so, with physical assaults and cursing, I don't hate her. I mean, I can even have a right to that, but it doesn't matter if I can't have what I really want: A family.
"... Why was I punished?" I asked myself. A light came over me when I wasn't paying as far as I was going.That light seemed to be twice as bright, along with the sound of a horn and people shouting. They ran and shouted for help, but I didn't understand.
Ah.
God punished me with an end so suffered.
.
.
.
If I could live again, I wanted to be with my real family, because I felt that this was not the world that I should be in.
"God, if you're listening to me, give me one more chance."