Introduction

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My name is Avery. I'm seven years old. I live with my Mom. I never knew my dad. My mom says she can't remember the name of my father, or what he looked like.

I was an accident, or what my Mom says, a mistake. She wasn't trying to have a kid, it just happened. She tells me a lot that she wishes I was never born, and I can't help but wish that, too.

I'm a bad kid. That's what my mom says. If I wasn't a bad kid, I wouldn't get punished as much as I do. Sometimes I know what I did wrong, like when I accidentally spilled some of my water on the floor, but other times I don't know what I've done wrong. I'm scared to do anything because I don't want to make any mistakes. I get punished for those.

There was a time when my Mom wasn't always like this. When I was three, she stopped drinking this stuff that smelled really bad. When she stopped drinking it, she was a lot nicer. But when I turned five, she started again, and she went back to being mean. I once asked her what is was, and she told me that it was none of my business.

I wish she'd stop drinking that stuff again. Then maybe we'd be able to be happy again. Mom says that she'll be happy again when I move out, but that's going to be a long time from now.

Mom says I can't let anyone see my cuts or bruises. She says she'll get in a lot of trouble, and then I'll get in a lot of trouble. I asked her, "If you don't want anyone seeing them, why do you give them to me?" She just slapped me and told me to never get an attitude with her again. I wasn't trying to be disrespectful, it was just an honest question. I know I can't ask her stuff like that anymore.

I almost wish I could let someone see my bruises. None of the other kids at school have to keep this big of a secret. Maybe if someone found out, they'd save me.

But Mom says I'd get in trouble. And when I get in trouble with her, it scares me.

Idea given by Jazzy1482

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