Hooded Wolves

+++ 01 - ONCE UPON A TIME +++

I had always wanted to be a part of something.

A family.

For a 17 year old, my life was not a happy one.

During my younger years, I'm an ugly, dull girl who wore shirts and jeans twice my size. They were hand-me-downs from my parents who didn't bother buying me clothes, instead they used the money they have on alcohol. They didn't feed me nor provide for me so I had to resort to odd jobs to fend for myself. I met certain people who doesn't seem honorable but they were the ones who employed me so I can support myself.

My father and mother were always drunk. I once reported them to the police but they didn't bother checking in on my complaint. They said that I was just a brat who wanted attention.

Me? A weak and frail looking girl with dirty clothes twice her size?!?? A Brat? Hah!?!!

Have they gone blind!

I never asked help again from them.

What no one understood was that my parents never think twice with whipping me into oblivion whenever they get intoxicated out of their minds. I had bruises and broken bones that I learned to hide behind my clothes. At one point, I even had to go to the hospital to have a broken rib treated. I got it when my father kicked my rib cage while my mother slapped me for being 'a bad child'.

The doctor and nurses insisted on asking where I got it but the fear a 13 year old girl has for her parents was bigger than any other fear anyone can experience. They were my guardians until I turn right of age and if they learned that I reported them, they will most likely kill me with their beatings.

I had my body to attest to my sufferings. The bruises and scars reminded me that this is not what a girl should get from her parents. These wounds all over my body gave me the strength to never give up. I had withstood the beatings for years. I will not let them push me down more than where I already am. So I fought back the best I could. Whenever they hit me, I hit them back. They may have been my only family but, I finally understood, the way they have treated me was not how parents treat their children. They disregarded me as their daughter so I finally erased them from my life as well. I am only living with them because they were my guardians. I just have to survive my life until I turn 18.

I was also tormented throughout middle school simply because of my pitiable appearance. Untamed hair, worn out clothes, old shoes. Students loved to toss me around only because I am weak. I had been dumped in the trash bin, had food thrown at me, was humiliated in front of the whole school when I stared a bit too long at the jocks, and was locked in the janitor's closet just because. To name a few.

They love bullying me because I do not fight back. Not because I cannot but if I do, they can have me expelled from school. I cannot let that happen. I have reached this stage wherein I am very familiar with the harsh reality of life.

The poor bows down to the rich. The weak surrenders to the strong. The ugly gives way to the beautiful.

But even if I am poor, weak and ugly, I have one thing to be proud of. I am smart. People called me a nerd because of that and was tormented by the popular kids at school. Well, I actually don't care about that, all I do care about is that I know more about the actuality of my surroundings.

Our school principal often referred me as the most mature among her middle schoolers but she doesn't know how I became so.

I was way past being a tot. I am way beyond being a girl. I may still have the body of a child but I already have the mind of a grown-up.

I felt relieved when our graduation ended because I thought the bullying will pass as soon as I reached high school. You know what happened? It didn't stopped, in fact, it worsened. And the sad truth is that the faculty turned blind eye to what was happening to me. Why would they? I was poor, weak and pathetic. I was all alone and they only tolerated my existence because I am a bright girl.

Then I found out about how my parents died while drunk driving into a ditch. They did not survived the crash.

I was supposed to cry but I don't because now I felt free. I held no remorse for my parents' death. They didn't even felt sorry for how they treated me during the years they were alive. The crash that took their lives were the least that they deserve.

Right after my parents' burial, I was evicted out of our house because my parents weren't able to pay the rent for the last few months. I begged our landlord but they needed the house for the new tenants.

Knowing that I cannot change their minds, I packed my things and the money I saved from the past years inside my worn backpack and a small traveling bag before leaving my bedroom which held no happy memories of my childhood. I strode past the hallways that witnessed the abuse I received from the people that should have taken care of me. I opened the door to my freedom and stepped out of the horror house that imprisoned me. I never wavered nor looked back as I treaded past the lawn to the sidewalk.

I gave out a deep breath before my lost expression changed into a determined one.

I turned my head to my left and walked out of the life I once had and to the one I will make. That was when I realized I had no place to go but I know I am ready to take over my life.

For the first time, I felt liberated from all the cruelty I had gone through. I am finally freed from the shackles of my past.