Wasted

• Sasha Prasad, Grade 6
• Short Story
• 2019

I felt hated. I had been abused by my own parents. They are pure monsters. As I walked down 11th street with my ripped shirt and half my pants, I felt all the eyes on me.

After about 2 hours of sobbing, I sat down. I have no idea where I am or if this is now my reality, but all I know is that I am scared. After being punched, kicked and thrown by my own parents for no apparent reason, it’s opened my eyes to how cruel this world is.

A few hours had gone by and night had fallen, I was freezing. Goosebumps trapped my body. As I sat there for what felt like an eternity, watching the people go by, I was thinking. Something that really got my mind all tangled up. Why did my parents do this to me?

The next morning I woke up and wiped my face. Only realizing that I still had a puddle in my hands from my tears. After a while of contemplating whether I should go back home or not, I finally made a decision.

As I walked through the streets of New York, I was finding familiar landmarks that eventually led me back to my house. For a moment I could not believe that this was my life now. I will always be thought of as the girl who was abused by her own parents, and that just worried me.

I sighed in disbelief. There it was. Brick roof, little yellow porch, and a little birdhouse to attract birds. My parents were once so nice. After a while of trying to pinch myself to wake up from this dream, I finally let go of the fact that this was my reality and rang the doorbell. I peered through the peephole expecting my mum or dad to open the door, but out came a man. One who I’d never seen before in my life.

He sighed and said, “I thought you might come back”. I questioned him. “What do you mean?”. He looked down at the wooden floor and said, “I’m Sorry”. I knew what was coming. As I shed a tear I said: “They got killed didn’t they”. Again he sighed. “Much worse” he replied. “Come in”.

I sat down on the purple couch that was once my parent’s, and he explained the story to me. “Your parents were very addicted to gambling,” he said with a dull face. “ They had to pay off old debts, but couldn’t afford it, so as a punishment they were told to abuse you and if not your whole family would be killed”. How could my own parents agree to abuse me! I thought they loved me. He continued “Once you left, they were so ashamed of themselves that they committed suicide and just like that, they were gone. They didn’t want to live with the thought of almost killing their own little girl”.

They were gone. I didn’t even get to say goodbye. I felt like my life had been wasted.