They always assumed I was weak. That my pale skin and frail legs implied that I needed to be saved by some strong man. They thought that their reward for helping me was my body and they could just take it. Why was that? Did their mothers teach them this? Or did mine just allow it?
It was February of 2249; four months after my twelfth birthday and 3 months after my father died. My mother was an emotional wreck and she had been locked in her room for weeks on weeks, but she never came out. The duty of my parents had fell on me. Cooking, feeding, and washing them. It was about that time when I had run out of money for anything.
I began to beg at the door for my mother to do something. We were starving and hadn't eaten in days, but she still didn't answer.
That's when I decided to call my father's younger brother. My father had always talked about how proud he was of his brother for becoming so rich and how much he adored him. Although he said this, my uncle never came to our house or the funeral after hearing about the loss. Despite this, I called him. This is a decision that I regretted for the rest of my life.
My uncle let us come to his house on he condition that we follow his rules with no complaints or else he would revoke his assistance. I agreed. I was so happy and so naive.
"Mother!" I yelled ecstatically, "I saved us. Uncle said that he would help!"
My mother did not respond to me, but I heard her cries begin to fade away.
"We will go to his house tomorrow! We are saved!" I yelled to her again. Still no response, but her cries stopped and she began to move within her room. I assumed this was her beginning to pack as I had also heard my younger siblings running to their rooms as they overheard the news.
The next morning, I woke up to see my mother in the kitchen. Despite her locking herself in her room, she seemed fine. My mother took the initiative to get up and get my other siblings ready. She dressed them up in their best clothes that we had bought with our father after his first paycheck. My mother was dressed up dashing as well with plump breasts and white skin. I looked the opposite. My hair was tangled, my bones were showing and my skin was brown . My expensive clothes that we had had been sold the week before to buy food for my younger siblings, so I looked like the maid of the family. Still, I tucked all my anger and frustration that had built up into a corner of my mind blocked by the promise of a new life.
When we walked to the street, we saw a car waiting for us that quickly brought us to my uncle's house.
