Evelyn Smith is a 15 year old girl who lives with her parents. She has been abused all her life by her parents, but still tries to find the good in bad. She is very kind-hearted and smart. She is also very hardworking and knows how to value what she...
'Well, if you forgot, I am you sweetie. So, technically, you did ask me.' she said extra sweetly.
'Uggghhhh!! Go away!!!' I scowled.
'Why is my subconscious so annoying??' I thought.
'I heard that!!' she chimed.
'You were supposed to! NOW GO AWAY!!' I said yelling at the end. (in my mind obviously)
'Geez, no need to yell. I am going.' with that I shut her off.
"Well, sorella means sister sunshine. It is Italian." Ezra clarified.
"You know Italian??" I whisper-yelled.
"Yes, we have an Italian origin baby. So we have to know our native language, don't we?" Xavier chuckled amused at my reaction.
"Ohh ok." I nodded.
"You didn't answer, how was your day?" Matteo repeated.
"Oh, it was fine." I shrugged.
After that, we made small talks till we reached home. Climbing out of the car, we entered inside.
"Hey, you guys are back. How was you day?" mom greeted us as soon as we entered.
"Good" we all chorused.
She just shook her head at us and told us to get freshened up and then come downstairs for some snacks.
I refused saying that I wasn't hungry, which I really wasn't and made my way to my room.
Throwing my bag on a chair, I landed on the bed utterly exhausted and closed my eyes for a few seconds.
But, the silence and peace didn't last long as my ribs started throbbing in pain.
Reluctantly, I got up and moved to the bathroom and changed into comfy clothes.
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After I was done, I lifted up my hoodie to check my ribs.
They were black-blue throughout and it was clear that they were still broken. They were still not healed.
Sighing to myself, I started changing my bandages and applied ointment on my wounds.
I know I should tell someone seeing the damage, as I probably need to see a doctor to heal this time, but I can't. I don't want to lose my family and the happiness I finally have. I know they will definitely not want me anymore after they get to know about the abuse. So, I guess, I have to take care of myself on my own as I can't risk it.
When I was done treating my wounds and bruises, I went back into my room and pulled out my bottle of painkillers. I have hidden it under a pile of clothes in my closet, so no one can find it. If someone found it, it would lead to many questions and I definitely do not want that.
