Welcome to Gang Life

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Life is exhausting. Physically and mentally. Society has told us what is deemed acceptable and what is not. You have to act a certain way, be a certain way. Just like a robot. I can't take it anymore yet I'm still here. In this screwed up fucking life. Not because I want to, but because I have to...for my brothers. I have to stay strong for them.

I open my eyes to be greeted by a gun placed in the center of my forehead, just resting there. My hand grips the gun tighter and my hands shake. My fingers find their way around the trigger.

Just do it.

Tears begin to pile up in my eyes, but I quickly brush them off. I haven't cried in years. I'm not prepared to cry now over my pathetic sorry life.

" UGH!" I scream.

I throw the gun across the room and put my hands in my hair gripping it tightly.

" I can do this," I whisper.

I walk to my mirror and look at myself. A beautiful girl stares back. One with long wavy brown hair and deep hazelnut eyes. Freckles dance across my heart shaped face. I take a step back and inspect myself more.

Worthless.

Slut.

Bitch.

Those words repeat themselves over and over again in my mind. My pj's are loose around my hourglass figure and my plump lips grimace at the sight of me. I need to calm down. I look down at my hands. Scars and bruises are clearly evident. I take my shirt off to reveal the scar going down my shoulder to my lower back. I just focus on breathing in and out. My tattoo of the moon is on the back of my neck reminding me of something that should be left behind.

My past is in the past.

No one knows who I am. No one knows about my past. Not even you. The full story of my past will come out soon. Maybe one day.

I was born and raised in San Francisco with my two loving parents and 2 older brothers. I had a good life. Until I was 5 at least. My parents were shot right in front of me. I watched the life come out of their eyes and the last thing they said to me was for us 3 to take care of one another.

Life doesn't always work out the way you want it to. After my parents were shot my brothers and I got seperated. I went from foster care home to another constantly. I ran away multiple times from the homes they would put me in so I could see my brothers. The police always caught us and separated us over and over again.

At the age of 7 was when I was first abused. Before that the verbal abuse was non stop, but if given the choice I would go back to the screaming and shouting rather then the hitting and kicking. The man who abused me was my temporarily foster father and he wouldn't stop shouting. Every single day he was screaming and yelling and all I could do was cry constantly. Until one day he got fed up. He took his hand and slapped me so hard a bruise was there for weeks. It just got worse. When the police were notified they didn't do shit. They just placed me in another foster home. Different foster parents same situation.

My brothers and I constantly remained in contact. We all saved up money so that when I was old enough I could go to college. My brothers were 3 years older than me so at that point everything would be fine financially.

But life's too cruel to have pathetic old me be happy.

Again when I was 10 I lost my virginity. I was raped by my foster brother who was 17 at the time. He called me a slut and a worthless bitch and if I didn't do what he said I'd go to an even worse family. So I did what he said. His parents eventually lost interest in me and the next foster care homes I went to just became worse and worse.

Then I started to do good in school maintaining a 4.4 GPA along with playing varsity volleyball and doing track and field. Everyone thought I was fine. But, the abuse from my foster homes became too much. I resorted to starving myself to death, constantly getting high and drunk.

I wanted to learn how to protect myself better. So I started to fight. I learned every single trick in the book. Becoming more stronger and faster by the minute. I purchased my own gun when I was 16 and started to learn how to use it.

I would steal my foster parents laptops and look up the different types of weapons and guns there were and how to use them. Then I started street fighting. It was an outlet and a really good way to make money.

Then the minute I turned 18 I moved to New York and was finally reunited with my brothers. I took online classes for NYU and decided when I was 20 I would officially be a full time student there since I got a full scholarship. My life was finally good.

Then I got mixed up in a life where threats and killing were regular day occurrences. I made a reputation for myself. I can't tell anyone who I was or what I did. I'd get killed. So the truth about that part of my past might stay hidden.

I left that place and job of what I did and got my life back together again. I secured a job as a bartender and a waitress to help pay bills and expenses. My brothers would help as well. But then when coming home to the apartment they got into a car crash. They were set into a hospital and now they're in a coma. The both of them and I can't fucking handle it anymore. I constantly have to pay for medical bills on top of food, appliances, and school tuition.

When I turned 20 I finally attended NYU majoring in Toxicology because I want to become a Forensic Toxicologist. I have good friends now and my life soon is turning good again. But, I have this feeling in my gut that something's gonna happen.

I just don't know what.