Chapter 4

My mom, my brother and I were in the room discussing what we would become if we were to grow up when a knock on the door diverted the conversation.

Mom, I would like to be a doctor in future. I said . I will like to be a lawyer . My older brother said . I would support my kids in what ever they want to do. I smiled shyly at what my mom said not knowing it would be my last. A knock on the door broke our conversation and mom asked us to hide as she went to see the person there.

We could hear screams, loud argument being exchange a loud noise was heard before her last scream that was when my brother got up and left to where my mom was. Another Loud noise was heard and I covered my ears as I felt dizzy and slipped into unconsciousness.

Later on woke up to the smell of smoke. The house was on fire. I wept for help. I called out to my mom and brother but none of them responded. The fire service later came but no one came out with me it was only me .

I was sent to hospital and after my discharge I was told nothing remained in the house upon me consistently asking . I was sent to orphanage there I lived for a year before being adopted by my current dad. I was just 8. I wanted to also be loved and be cared for but I guess my life was not meant for it. That was when I did discovered my hidden talent and started writing. My first poem was written at the age of 8 when I was just a girl who wanted to be loved the way she was in the falls of September 11,2004.

I ended with tears in m my eyes and a punch in my heart at the thorn in there. My invisible pain was just like the one I witnessed back then on the 29th of November 2006. I remember vividly that fateful day when I entered their home.

A breeze of cold air brushed across my skin as the smell of freshy food was trapped in my nostril but all I wanted was to be back in my mom's arms. I walked to the room I was directed to picked up a book from my bedside and went forward to ask their son who was now my brother for a pencil.

I knocked on his door and after a brief moment it was opened. I walked forward and bowed my head as I politely asked for a pencil. His words were the first once that cause the pain in my heart. Calling me a girl no one wanted and no one needed the one whose parents were dead .

I rushed out of his room as my tears spilled uncontrollably. Was I really not needed? I asked myself. I was only 8. I repeated.