I remember being a child sometimes, the rosey cheeks and brown hair was a picture, my eyes the same colour as the ocean on a clear summers morning. I was always praised for my looks told I was beautiful, told I was going to grow up to be a model or an actress and boy I wanted to believe that to be true.
I lived in a quiet down just outside of Oregon but my family used to go on trips to Europe when I was a kid places like Paris, Italy, Rome, Sweden and my personal favourite Amsterdam. I still return there at least once a year that's where I seek refuge in the darkest of times, I know that I will never fully be alone in Amsterdam.
My parents were good people, my mother an attractive yet modest woman, unlike me. She was tall and blond with curves like Marilyn Monroe. Sweet and caring were the only words that come to mind when I think about her. Yet her demons destroyed her much like they do to others, she had some problems, ones she liked to hide, she liked to believe we couldn't see. But I did, I saw everything.
When I was 7 my father started going out more, he was a drunk enjoyed the Booz and cheep drugs, I always knew I would turn out like my father. One day he was off on one of his benders, my mother got a phone call saying that the police had picked him up for having sex in a public place, he always did like to sleep around my dad, I guess I also claimed my promiscuity from him.
Well, when my mother got that call you can imagine how she felt, or at least how you would think she would feel but she didn't react. I watched her put the phone down and down a shot of whisky before lifting her keys and leaving without any words exchanged. My mother never came back that day, turns out she had killed herself, jumped off of a bridge the silly bitch. My dad never came back after that, to tell you the truth I don't know what happened to him. One day he was sitting in his chair sipping his coffee with the paper in hand and the next the chair was empty and the coffee stuck to the bottom of an old cup he left on the table.
The day my mother topped herself the social work came for me, I was put into a care home for troubled youth where I spent years waiting by the door for someone to come and take me home, and for the 12 years I was in there no one showed that was until November 21st 1989.
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Mia
FanfictionA pulp fiction fan theory on the mysterious mrs Mia Wallace and maybe some idea on what happened after pulp fiction Her backstory, how she came to be mrs Mia Wallace and her past that lead to a serious array of mental health issues and a cocaine ad...
