But you lied to me

A

e thought I was just lazy, taking another break after my lunch ended. She hated me from the beginning, but only gave me a job because she knew my mother. I threw up

ou pre

ting sick. But what if I wasn't? I took a test

Her blond curly hair up in a messy bun. I looked a lot like her, but with darker hair and skintone. My stepdad Vin is sitting o

and sees me standing, sweating and panting against t

go from my mother to Vin and bac

r has always been strict. Go to church, do your chores, don't dress slutty, no boyfriends, all that kind o

yes. ‘I didn't want to tell them, but Chrissie found out

ly anger was coming from her now. I know th

slapping me across my face. I lower my head. I don't want her to hit me again just by lo

ve a boyfriend! Don't lie to me, Maya!’ sh

for her. She didn't care for me, no

he tilted up her arm to hit me again. My cheek burned

I'm ashamed of you. How could you even s

After all, she is the hooker, the slut, the sex worker. Well, at least she was. For almost five yea

mother takes a step bac

t's like he's been frozen onto the couch. ‘Vin please, say something.’ I beg hi

m alone. He is

its me again. My head hit the small table next to the door. The faze with cute little flowers in it, tumbles down after m

left side of my head. My hand is touching something wet. I pick it up. I almost scream when I see a white little towel with my blood on i

next to the door. The kitchen is next to the tv, with only a sink, a coffee maker and a fridge. The counter we also use to eat from. It barely fit three chairs. But above all: Vin's apartment only had one bedroom. I had to sleep on the couch for almost three years now. Did I need to go

e thin walls of their bedroom behind my couch are a nightmare. I c

Vin said to her. 'Who is

I was keeping it or taking it away. She really thought I was a whore. She wouldn't believe even if I told her the truth. I ignore the pain in my heart and walk to the fridge to fill a big glass with Fanta. It's cold and exa

arder.’ my mother s

rmones already? Or is it because they have

the rest of my Fanta. Then my mother steps out of h

ind, giving her strength to say what she needs to say. ‘We decided you can't live here anymore. I packed your bag with some clothes and other things you'll need. There is enough money for y

poke with a soft but angry voice. I just looked at him with tears in my eyes

Yes, I’m fifteen years old, I

life would never be