When I am five, I will meet you. I will be scared and upset, going into kindergarten, alone with no friends. You will say hi and we will play. From then on we will be inseperable. I'm so sorry I didn't see it then.
When I am eight, I will be sad, because I am alone now, my parents always away on work. You will make me forget with your optimistic attitude. I'm so sorry I didn't notice it then.
At age eleven, you will tell me that you are lesbian, I won't care. A few day's later, your mom will get a divorce, because you are lesbian and you will blame it on yourself. I'm sorry, I should have saved you.
On your birthday, you spend the night at my house. I will notice bruises covering your arms and legs. You will say you were wrestling with your dad. I should've known.
When you are twelve, you miss school for two days. I will go to your house to bring you homework. I will find you on the ground, broken.
Everything on you is broken. Like only one leg and one arm aren't broken. You have blood all around you. You are crying. Fist marks cover your face but you say you fell.
I am scared. For you, for me, and for any other living creature in the house. I call 911, even though you say not to. At the hospital, I call cps with a doctor. Your Father is taken to a mental hospital. I will spend the night, and you will cough up blood. I will scream for a nurse, crying.
Two day's later, I will find out that six of your ribs are broken along with almost everything else, and that one rip punctured a lung. I visit you. You have tubes attached to you. You smile at me and say: "Tomorrow, I will be better, I promise." Forgive me.
Your not better the next day. I visit you everyday, each day you say the same, the next day, it will not be true. I will walk in on you writing a letter to your dad one day. I will ask what it says. You will say: "I am forgiving him, so he might go to heaven." I will never forget.
The doctors tell me you cannot be helped. I look up ways to help you. I find a solution. It costs alot. I start to raise money, calling family members, having fundraisers, working.
When I am thirteen, four days before my birthday, I will have almost enough money. I haven't told many people about my plan. Your mother returns. She has a new family. She is your 'official' gaurdian. She pulls the plug. Within a few minutes, your gone. Your mother then disappears. She is happy that she has taken a 'vile being' out of this world. I will feel sad, but I will not cry.
On my birthday, I cremate you, then take you to yosemite. I couldn't take you to yellowstone, so sorry. I will climb up half dome. You will be in a small, decorated box. At the top, I will open your box up and watch as you fly away. When you are all gone, I will walk to a secluded area. Then I will cry.
How is it that evil stays alive and happy, while good dies young? How is it that your mother could kill you so easily? How is it that I couldn't save you? How is it that your gone?
RIP Mary-Anne, May Your Spirit Fly Free.
Love,
Sabrina. I miss you, I'm sorry.
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United States • 28 years old