Forgotten

Chapter Seventeen- Tamara's Past

I wasn't born to a normal family. I was born into the Aarisma gang. I was born to be the next leader of the gang, but they were cruel. They didn't know kindness, much less how to raise a child. Whenever I did something wrong they hurt me, again and again without end. I had nightmares of me screaming, of pain, of her eyes. They were green like one of my own, but they didn't have the kindness nor the innocence that mine did. They were corrupt, she was lost in her own hate. She didn't understand that children love their parents unconditionally.

Growing up I was spacy and anxious. Teachers had to ask me questions multiple times because I was often lost in thought. I would wander the streets at night alone because no one would dare to do anything to me. I didn't know how to think for myself so often these walks were lonely. I didn't dare stay at home. My father and mother fought, often. Not because they didn't love each other, because they didn't understand love. They didn't know how to love anyone, especially me.

I remembered late nights when I was too tired to roam the streets. The second I opened the door anyone who was inside my house would turn their eyes to me. Often many people from the gang stayed at our house, probably to hide from the cops. They never came to our house, and the very few times that they did my parents would have me go to the door and pretend I was home alone. It always worked. No policeman ever suspected the sweet little girl.

Years passed and nothing ever changed. Except me. Slowly I became covered in scars, and only a professional or me could tell you how I got them. The long traces along my back were from whips, the criss-crossing lines across my arms were from knifes, and anywhere else could be from a number of things. One of which was fire.

Fire was my biggest weakness. Ever since I was a little girl I had feared those blazing licks of death, and my parents used that against me. Whenever I did something that they couldn't stand one would hold me while the other lit a match. They would put it near my skin, lightly at first, letting me feel the relaxing warmth before pressing it against my arm. Screams would ring out so loud that I couldn't believe they were my own, and they would laugh and smile and act like my life was some sort of game.

When I became eight my late night walks became longer. I would go out farther than where the Aarisma gang controlled. I saw places that looked nicer than my life, but I thought I didn't deserve that kind of life. That I belonged with them. My favorite place to visit was the Birch's house. Their son Jay would always smile through the window and wave at me. His parents close behind either baking or watching a movie together. I longed to do that kind of thing, but never imagined it as a possibility.

One day Jay's parents noticed me standing outside. Normally I was cautious and wouldn't let that happen, but on this day I couldn't hide myself from view. My parents had a bad fight and took it out on me. My legs were bleeding, my arms were burnt, and my face was flushed from the tears that ran down it. I looked into Jay's parents eyes and expected to see disgust. Disgust at the sad bleeding girl that somehow got their son's attention. Disgust at the girl that isn't even loved by her parents, but when I looked into their warm brown eyes all I saw was love, concern, and trust.

They hauled me to a hospital before alerting the police. I was immediately surrounded by people, nurses, who seemed to be incredibly concerned for me.

"What... What happened to her?" They spoke over me, not in the sense that I wasn't there in a concerned parenting way.

"I'm not sure, but look at all those scars," I had never had people so concerned about me. I never had people that wanted to take care of me. All the people, all the noises, all the rush. I tried to wrap my mind around it all, but my eight-year-old brain couldn't handle it. As soon as they got me situated on a cot I fell back and passed out.