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A Girl Standing Above the World |Part 1/3|
A Girl Standing Above the World |Part 1/3|

A Girl Standing Above the World |Part 1/3|

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Shouldering my backpack, I head towards home. Being a high school junior honestly sucks. Unbelievable amounts of homework, way too many chattering everywhere, way too much screaming from the teachers trying to get our attention.
Shaking off my thoughts, I quickened my pace towards my house. Walking briskly down the sidewalk, I finally arrived home.
Or what I usually call it. It never seemed or felt like home.
Sighing, thinking about the hours of homework ahead, I pushed the door open. My house was a modest white two-story building, with the living room, kitchen and dining room on the first floor while all the bedrooms are on top. I knew it like the back of my hand, thanks to living in here my whole life.
My mother was waiting, her arms crossed, right under the doorway. She frowned deeply, showing the graying hair. I rolled my eyes and leaned against the porch railing, giving her my best-annoyed face.
We never had a good relationship. With my dad neither. My parents would always favor my two older brothers, putting me in the dirt.
I didn't mind. I wasn't dumb or naive. I don't need their help.
"Your father lost his job. We rented out your room for money." my mother said as if it didn't matter.
"What?" I asked, eyes wide.
"We sold your room for money. Your brothers need to go to college, you know." My mother repeated slowly as if I were stupid and didn't speak English.
"You just can't-"
"Yes, I can, young lady. All your useless little things are in the hallway." My mother turned her back and took a step in the house.
"Oh, and," she said, spinning on her heel. "I had the kindness to pack in into boxes." My mom gave me a look. "Be grateful."
She disappeared into the house, grumbling to herself. As if somebody melted my knees, I crumpled to the floor.
My childhood. My ugly kid drawings. Polaroids. Pictures. My clothes. Everything that was part of me.
Swept away into the hallway, as if it didn't matter.
I closed my eyes and one fat tear fell down my cheek.
This is not how its suppose to end.
Standing up, I sniffed. I was almost an adult. No way I was going to break down over my room.
Stomping into my house, I ran up the stairs. Seeing the piles of my stuff by the hallway, I was shocked. The simple reality of my mom sold my room to strangers for money.
For my two dumbass brothers.
My brothers. Two spoiled ungrateful sons of bitches.
Charlie. Oldest son. Handsome flirtatious idiotic football player. Probably slept with every girl. Stupid. fails in every class except PE.
Rhett. Second son. Alcoholic. Smokes Pot. Doesn't attend school. Didn't attend school for the past 3 years. Dumb too.
Me. Third kid. Girl. Straight As. Stanford scholarship. Stubborn, but smart. Funny, but serious. Snarky, but I can still beat you. Hardworking.
And what do my parents do? Give all the goddamn money to Charlie and Rhett.
A polaroid floated down from a pile of pictures. I landed by my feet and I kneeled to see it.
It was me when I was six years old. I was smiling brightly at the camera. A small cupcake was in my hands. I was happy. Because I didn't understand.
I could see in the background Rhett with a huge cake. He was playing with his new remote-controlled car, grinning. Another pile of presents awaited him on the table.
I looked back at my six-year-old self. Small cupcake. One present from my childhood friend. A macaroni necklace. My parents invested all their money on Rhett's present so didn't have any cash left for me.
Ripping the polaroid in two, I cracked.
My soul split in two. It fissured, making my blood rush through my ears. Rage burned beneath my eyes, turning everything red.
There's no way I'm letting people push me around. My parents have no right to make me sleep on the floor by the kitchen. They can't just command me around. Do this, Trista. Do that, Trista. I'm not your stupid slave!
Sure, they put a roof on my head. Feed me. And what do I have to do in return?
I have to wash all the clothes in the house. My dad's. My mom's. Charlie's. Rhett's. My own, of course. I asked why I had to do all their dirty work, my dad said "You're a girl, Trista. You're supposed to be a housewife. Might as well start now."
My mom said "Women don't do great things. They stay home and take care of the children and the house. Now, stop whining and clean Charlie's football jersey."
I have to make the food for the whole family. I wash the dishes. I to go get the groceries. I have to do my homework. I have to babysit the neighbor's kids. I have to buy cigarettes for Rhett to prevent him from hitting me again. I have to chase out every girl Charlie brings home. I have to stop tears from running my face all the time. I have to accept that boys are stronger, better, superior to girls in every way.
Even though deep down that's not true.

Author Notes: Sorry for not posting anything in a long time. Thanks for reading. :D

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8 May, 2019
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4 mins
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