Jasmine let out a sigh before speaking. "Alright," she said, mustering the courage to share her truth.
"You've likely taken in every nook and cranny of my home, scanned the streets of my neighborhood, witnessed my daily commute to school, observed my wardrobe selection, and even noted the car parked in our driveway. All these elements may lead you to assume that my life is flawless. However, that couldn't be further from the truth. In reality, my life isn't all that dissimilar from yours."
She paused for a moment, her eyes gazing off into the distance before resuming her story.
"In my early childhood, my mother's addiction to alcohol began to spiral out of control. Meanwhile, my father's behaviour left much to be desired; he frequently found himself behind bars for various foolish actions. As time went on, my mother's neglect towards her duties and responsibilities within the household, towards my father, me, and her job only worsened. I was subjected to countless shouting matches for simple oversights, such as forgetting to take out the trash or failing to wash the dishes. These were tasks that my parents should have been responsible for, yet I bore the brunt of their frustration."
"I've been taken advantage of by my father countless times and was forced to date one of his friend's sons that was 10
years older just because my dad had benefited from it. At my father's 38th birthday party, some of his friends took advantage of me."
*Her mewling started to get tense.
"It became clear to me that the situation was escalating beyond our control. Meanwhile, my mother remained silent, seemingly oblivious to the chaos unfolding around us. Perhaps she was too inebriated to grasp the gravity of the situation."
As time passed, the arguments between my parents grew increasingly volatile, leaving my mother bruised and battered more often than not. Despite the urge to speak out and intervene, I remained silent, knowing all too well the consequences of provoking my drunken mother and
negligent father. After all, I had no desire to be on the receiving end of their wrath.
I knew that I was only 14, but the weight of the world already seemed to be resting on my shoulders. As Jasmine told me about her struggles, I couldn't help but feel a deep sense of sadness and empathy. The fact that she had already been through so much at such a young age was heartbreaking.
I couldn't shake the image of her being forced into something that she never wanted, and the thought of her having to work multiple jobs just to cover her medical expenses, as she was diabetic made me feel helpless.
As I lay in bed that night, I couldn't help but think about Jasmine and her family. I wanted to do something,
anything to help. It was like a fire had been ignited within me, and I was determined to make a difference.
The next day, I spent hours preparing a speech in my head, one where I promised to be there for Jasmine no matter what. I wanted to show her that she wasn't alone, that she had someone who cared about her and was willing to go above and beyond to help.
Naturally, I refrained from disclosing my thoughts to her at once, despite having shared a considerable amount of time in her company. I patiently awaited the opportune moment to reveal my feelings, uncertain of the specific circumstances that would signify its arrival, yet confident that I would recognize it when it presented itself.