Notes

here we go. i'll start off before i was even born.
my mother was married to a man named Scott. that's all i really know about him. she worked in a hospital and a psychic told her to get away from him while she could and that only bad things were coming her way, but she refused to listen to her. the psychic passed away three days after that. my mom should have listened and believed her. she had a miscarriage months later, and after that, she got pregnant with me, which should have been impossible. she was told by doctors she would never be able to have children, so it makes no sense that it happened. even so, when she found out she was pregnant the first time, doctors said the child would die, and sure enough, they did. so i don't understand why i'm even here.
when she announced that to my biological father, he stole all of the money from her account and left her to fend for herself. why was i the trigger? why was i the one who finally made him up and leave?? i'll never know i guess. a while later, she got together with my stepfather, who promised to not leave her even though he assumed the promised baby, me, would die during birth. but that didn't happened. i was as small as i could possibly be to be considered healthy and they had to jab my foot with a needle to make me cry, but other than that, i was fine. i was normal. they said i would die in a month though. but i didn't. i don't know why, but i can't help but wish i died right then and there. i mean, why me? why was i the miracle that managed to overcome death in the face?? why not some other kid destined for great things? i'm a nobody. a worthless woman destined to live a worthless life.
years passed, and everything seemed perfect. i had a step brother who was always there, my mom and "dad" got along perfectly fine, and i was taking dance classes i actually enjoyed. i enjoyed every moment of life. even though i was abnormally tiny, got sick easy, and had a few issues with my heart, but i was still happy. by the time first grade rolled around though, that's when things got rough. i was transferred to a private school called Ellison because of my academic achievements. i'd be stuck with 11 other kids until 12th grade, but that wasn't a big deal. my mom told me to do it, so i would. i didn't think i'd be such a target though. mainly two boys constantly ganged up on me. i didn't have many friends, so i didn't think that i'd be too big of a deal. no one would worry, cause i was just always happy. lonely as ever, but happy. or so i though. it made me sad. sure, but words didn't hurt. it started taking a toll on me when they physically fucked with me. trapping me in soccer nets, flipping me over their shoulders and knocking me out, chasing me, and slamming me into trees. i always said i was fine. this kept going until the end of second grade, a new bruise or cut gaining no questions. the only one who really cared was my "dad" but i brushed it off as clumsiness. they bought all of my lies. eventually the last straw was when they brought knives into the school to break off a stick and sharpen it both ways. they pierced my one elbow and ripped it up. i have a hot scar there now. i finally spoke up, considering i went into a suicidal frenzy once i was finally caught. in the summer i was able to get in touch with a therapist for only an hour. i was diagnosed with adhd, and hearing that didn't exactly help with me being the depressed mess i was. after weeks of just keeping up with dance classes though, i was fine. the studio i was at was great. now, though, i was going to head into a public school again. Olivet.
third grade was mainly spent practicing dance routines and trying to find friends. i didn't find any that year except two guys named Cade and Carter. i didn't talk to them every single day, but they made the effort to talk once a week at best. school didn't bug me much though, what started to get real was my home life. my step brother moved to college, leaving me alone with my mom and "dad". it was tough not having a playmate anymore, but i could handle it. the one thing that started to get weird was my mother. she started swearing at me constantly, using vile words that pierced me right in the soul. i couldn't fight back though. she was my mother. a child fighting their mother is never okay, so i just followed her rules. "listen and do". at that point, my safest place was my dance studio. the teachers liked me, the kids enjoyed my presence, and i was a competition beast apparently. by 4th that place was ruined though. the dance teacher flipped on me out of nowhere. she went from praising me to sitting me out nearly every single class for nothing. but no, i had to keep going through it until the year was over. at least i was making my way into the cool kid crowd. i had friends! they were petty as fuck, but friends nonetheless. after that year, i managed to slip into a new dance studio and yet another year.
5th was when my home life progressively got worse. my mom went from shouting a few swears here and there to demanding me to do one thing after another after another, you get it. she hit me every now and then too, but it was whatever. i was growing numb to pain. i was more mature than most other kids so they started to steer clear outside of school, but that was that though. everything was fine. i broke the summer before 6th though.