Chapter VII

Ernst Hemingway once wrote, "You are so brave and quiet I forget that you are suffering". I cannot help but find comfort in that quote.

I would like to scream trough my window as loud as I can that "I need help!" and perhaps get help... I would love to get help from a psychiatrist who will guide me and show me guidance through my struggles. Yet deep down, I know that these memories, which are relived in my brain every second of my day, they cannot be deleted with a simple touch of a button. They cannot be thrown into a trash bin to which I can never see them again.

"Hon-she grabbed me by my chin while she was looking down at me- would you like to shower today? You smell horrible!", she smiled showcasing her front teeth gap, her teeth have a yellow tint to them.

She grabbed my forearm and dragged me with her from my sitting position to go to the outside bathroom shed. I hate showering. If I shower without her watching me, I will get beaten up with a belt or multiple.

What she will do is sit me down beside the fireplace and whip my back, leaving my back bleeding with whip marks as if I was Jesus on palm Sunday getting my punishment for my sins.

The social workers haven't seen me since the day I was delivered off to her doorstep, once she adopted me. They do not get a chance to see me since I am "clinically ill" and cannot be surrounded by many people or put under pressure due to overwhelming questions.

2

The outside bathroom is connected to the barn, it's about 25m^2. The boards holding it up is moldy to the point that some of the wood has evaporated! Therefore there will be small cracks where it would be missing half of the plank or more and letting air in.

It is especially cold in the snowy winters here! Compared to the summers which are extremely dreadful and humid whilst the winters are as cold as living in Siberia with an overwhelming amount of snow and ice accompanying it!

Bella always asks me to go ice skating in the wintertime. I have always wanted to go... However, I know that if I went with her I would get beaten to death and thrown into the fireplace causing me to not see the light of day again.

"Get in now", she ordered while smiling devilishly and opening the door gentlemanlike.

I stepped in and dropped my rag. She turned on the small shower knobs and stood there holding the even smaller cheap showerhead on the verge of breaking every time it gets turned on! While the showerhead was awaiting its queue to explode, Mrs. Robinson was giving me the soap she had made for me.

She tends to make soap in her free time whenever she isn't harassing me. It smells like daises overpowering the atmosphere of rotten wood which was filling my nostrils when I stepped inside. Whenever I go to the bathroom it feels as if the small shed is about to fall apart while we are there!

Once the wind was extreme, it was one of the windiest days of September! On that day, the roof flew off. It was extremely weird to experience! I was standing there trying to wash my hazelnut curls until I felt a cold breeze fall upon my shoulder, not realizing that the roof had flown away! Deep down I wish I flew away with that small makeshift roof made of boards of all sizes.

I had to make my bathroom once I turned thirteen, I used to have to bathe in the house's guest bathroom, but Mrs. Robinson worried that the adoptees would notice me.

I am the oldest sibling and all I know is that there are more girls than boys adopted. I have never met them however, all I know is the small bits of information Mrs. Robinson blurts out once she is finished with enjoying my youthful body.

Whenever I would run my fingers through my hair and condition it Mrs. Robinson would enjoy herself almost as if I was her live porn. It disgusted me that this is what my life had become. Becoming a child prostitute. What a life.

Mrs. Robinson handed me a towel to dry off and the holey rag to cover my torso, even though it does nothing. I am naked whenever I am at home!

The clothes I wore once I went to the Monroe's to work were the clothes Mrs. Robinson gives me to wear in winter at night, therefore I wouldn't have to freeze once she leaves.

I remember my first time at work. Bella laughed at me once she saw me with my corduroy brown pants and my grandpa sweater. Her magnificent comment was, "honey you ain't working in them pretty clothes of yours. You have to change! Here, let me grab a dungaree from my father's work clothes that don't fit his beer-belly no more!".

I felt like a laughing stock, yet, I must admit that she was right and if I had continued to work in those clothes, Mrs. Robinson would have smelt it easily! She would probably shoot me there and then! I thank the universe every day for Bella and what that girl has done to me unconsciously.

She had given me a small flashlight to guide me through my endless tunnel of darkness. The smile she shines at me every morning is the only reason I can smile through the rest of my day, knowing that there is some hope awaiting for me every morning is a blessing.

If only it would be her and not Mrs. Robinson with me in the shed.

If only me and Bella could live in a small cottage in the mountains of our town, how life would be beautiful!

In our town, we have a small secluded part in our mountain area which is quite far away from the farm area. The people there live in cottages which look like they came off a Swiss Style architect's dream!

The people living there tend to either own a small farm where they get their food from, or they head toward the small supermarkets which are quite small and only carry organic food and homegrown, pesticide-free food.

It is almost as if the cottage areas were their community and the farmers had their community. They are two different worlds from what Bella has told me. Her father goes to their cottage in the mountain from time to time and if she is lucky, she gets the once in a lifetime experience to accompany him. Of course when she does I go insane inside my barn. Neither Oscar Wilde, Ernst Hemingway or Dostovjesky can save me!