My Life - Original Writing

" mom dad you were right I'm not ready but please get me out LIKE NOW I MEAN IT"

before she died. Holding back tears you manage to scramble up and you try to run up the stairs again.

I wake to a knock at my door. I open my eyes and startle. I'm in an unfamiliar room. Where am I? Suddenly, a million devastating memories flow through my mind at once. There's blood, and tears, and anger. I'm pulled from my mind by my Aunt Julia's voice, "It's happenin' again, ain't it dear?" she asked, her southern drawl more apparent than usual.

The next morning, I awoke with the sounds of the children banging on the door. I shuffle over there, my eyes barely open, thinking to myself, ’Can I ever get an

“I can’t make promises, bye.” she said extending the “y” in bye. She shut the door and my mom turned from my dresser to

“‘If need be?’ Mother are you even listening to yourself? She is pregnant with my child, MY son or daughter. I’m not going to just abandon her.”

“Si, I am so sorry.” Right as she said that the yellow cab has arrived at my doorstep, the one thing that will carry me across the world away from my mother.

I opened my eyes and smashed the snooze button that woke me up. "Another day of being fake." I said as I scooted out from my bed. I grabbed a pair of boxers and my towel and headed for the bathroom. I turned on the lights and stopped dead in my tracks as I noticed the enormous bruise that formed under my ribs. Nobody knows this, but my dad is an alcoholic and loves to beat the crap out off me, but I've grown use to it because this has been happening since my mother passed away which was when I was twelve years old.

I push back away from the table and make my way back to my room. I could feel all the eyes on me as I left the room especially David 's. Having a look down at my watch it was only 8:47pm, which meant it wasn 't long now until I saw Joseph. I need to figure out a way I would be able to sneak out without getting caught. As face as I could I race back up to my room and starting getting thing organised. I grab a bag from my wardrobe packing a blanket so we could sit on in the barn and also a extra hoodie if it 's cold outside. While I 'm zipping up the bags there was a knock on my door.

I rushed down the stairs behind my mom with Sophie following closely behind me. I hopped into the front seat before Sophie, the trivial fact of ‘shotgun’ forgotten. The ride there was quiet, except for my sniffling. I have always been a baby, and I have cried for the simplest things. But when we got there, my eyes were dry and so was my mouth. I couldn’t speak and I couldn’t breathe. My dad was sitting on the side of the road, his motorcycle laying chipped apart ahead of him. The huge red motorcycle that was shiny and impeccable, now lay dented and chipped on its side. My mom put the car in park and hopped out. My Dad didn’t want all the drama associated with the rescue squad coming, and he was at least 2 minutes away from the hospital. So he didn’t want to call anyone.

“It’s fine, honey,” My Mom said, “don’t worry about it”. There was no way I was going to let her help me.

I mean I’m sure it’s not only my parents but lots of other parents that force things upon their children. But I don’t owe my parents anything; I’m not in debt to them for what they have given me. Because everything they gave me was just another thing I never wanted.” She turned to look at her parents who were both staring at her in shock, “I just wanted to tell you both this in person. Don’t worry I’m leaving tonight. Oh, and as this might be the last time I see you guys, I just want to let you know that you are greatest people I know but sorry to say you’re pretty shayt parents. But keep up the good charity work. And dad...I’m not really a lawyer. The law degree is a fake, I flunked out in university.” she shrugged her shoulders and quickly walked down the stairs.

I leave the bathroom, heading into what used to be the sitting area of the diner, passing by the room I had slept in. My jacket, mask, and bandanna rest on top of the diner counter along with the rest of the guy’s belongings. I walk further into the room, towards one of the old booths near the back where the gang sits at, eating the canned food that is to be our breakfast.

Everyone knows how it feels to be exiled. No one has been in on everything they wanted to when they wanted it. I wanted everything in my life to be forced. I cannot control everything in my life not now and especially not when I was young. I tried so hard to get everything done the way I wanted it when I wanted it but then my life changed and it changed fast. When I three years old my mom and dad got divorced. After that my brother, mom, and I moved around a lot for the next two years. The neighborhoods we lived in didn’t happen to be ideal. My mom eventually got remarried when I was five. Not even a year later my father died. In this short time span I didn’t really comprehend what was going on and that I really lost my father. I didn’t

If I am going to tell the story of my life I might as well start at the beginning, the very beginning, my parents. My mom is Monica Ann Hill. She is a quarter Italian and a quarter German. She was born to Cathleen Trosen and Gary Trosen on August 29th, 1973 in Covina, California. Her parents were divorced when she was a teenager and her mom later remarried to Boud Jackson. My Grandpa Bob. My mom was baptised a member of the LDS Church at the age 16 and went to college at BYU, Brigham Young University, where she met my dad. My dad is Paul Clement Hill. He is a quarter Scottish, a quarter Welsh, and a quarter English. He was born to Audrey Hill and Donald Hill on August 29th, 1973 in Bangkok, Thailand. He was born there because his dad was an international banker. He later moved to many other places ending in Connecticut, USA. He was baptised a member of the church at the age 8. He also went to college at BYU, and after meeting my mom served an LDS mission in California. After his mission they married in the Salt Lake, UT temple.