Elora

4

Elora

I held my chest as something just woke me out my sleep.

I looked out the window and jumped. The man tapped on the glass and told me to get out the car. He had on a jumpsuit the kind men where at car fixing places.

I unlocked the door and slowly got out and fell to the ground.

"What the hell?!" The guy had hooked the car up and the tail end was raised in the air. Lucky I didn't land on my bad leg.

"Why are you towing my car?!"

"Because some woman road passed here twice on her way to work and she said when she was on her way back the car was still here. You can t do that it's illegal". I ran my fingers through my hair.

"How much is it to get it back. Wait.... What time is it?"

"$200". He looked at his watch. "It's 7:29. So this lady left work and came home and you were still here after her shift. Your car gotta go".

"Okay that's not bad, I understand. But... Can you at least give me a ride to the place". He shook his head.

"I'm sorry that's against policy. I will allow you to get your stuff out first. People tend to break into cars at the impound". I sighed and grabbed my duffle bag.

He got in the truck and sped off.

I sat on the curb and punched the grass next to me.

I held back my tears and stood. Tossing the duffle bag around my body, I began to walk.

The cold wind smacked me in the face. I put my hood over my head and tied it so it wouldn't fly off.

My leg hurts so bad. Why didn't I take the help from that old lady?

Ooohhhhh yeah I forgot I had an hour to pack my shit because I was being fuckin kicked out!

The cold air wasn't helping it either. It's just making it cramp up.

Since we just have all this free time as I walk down this dangerous neighborhood. I'll tell you about myself

My full name is Elora Catalina Montes.

I was born on January 1st, 1996.

My family is from Columbia. My mom was around my age when she met my dad. He is from Brazil and he went to Columbia to travel. He met my in a market and they hit it off the first time they meet.

They got drunk together ended making me. My dad left my mother a week later because he had to go back to his wife and kids. After my mom has me she got postpartum depression, which most woman get after they have a baby and killed herself. It can be very difficult to control it without proper help.

Her neighbor found her and they sent me to my father. My mother was a prostitute so he just assumed I wasn't his.

So he sent me off to go live with his mother, my grandmother, when I was seven. He treated me like a slave, I slept in the basement and everything. If you saw me and my father walking down the street together there was no way you could say I wasn't his daughter. If I was a boy if be his twin.

I didn't speak a lick of English when I first came here. Now I don't even have a accent anymore.

My Grammy took care of me for a long time but she had very bad congestive heart failure and died in her sleep when I was 14. She left me money and her house but my father took it from me and moved here to the united States to live in her house. Kicked me out and put me in foster care.

I used to fight every day because I had long hair and tan skin.

They used to call me horrible names and would beat me so bad I always stayed locked in my room because I was so scared of them. So I ran away.