It's been a week since I fled my father's home. I don't even know where I am at, right now, and I'm not even sure if I care. For weeks I was left too reside in parks. I can't even remember the last time I had a decent meal, and it's clear just by looking at me. It's not that I don't mind consisting of nothing but bones and pale stretched skin. I am still a fat whore, like always. I could be nothing but a mere skeleton, and you, yes you mother, would dare to attack me with those cruel words. My hair is matted to my forehead, and I feel so self-conscious. Paranoia pouncing on me.
I couldn't help but feel the ache deep within, pleading to return home. But I'm not even sure if I even have the right to call it my home. Or if I'd be welcome...
YOU ARE READING
This Is My Goodbye
Short Story"She was like a star, nothing but a beautiful echo of death" Ultimately I had to choose an escape from my past. For years, the constant weight of what they all did, has brought me to my knees, I forgive those who have wronged me. And accept judgemen...
