Desire Is A Broken Girl. Her And Her Brother, Roccos Father Is. a Gang Leader. He Is Part Of Huge Gang Called The Black Mambas, So He Expects The Two Young Children Will Be Trained To Take Over After Him When He Steps down. They Have To Train Every...
Im running. Im running. Im running away from the thoughts of and dark memories of my mothers lifeless body laying in a ditch. Her hair intertwined with twigs and leaves the color of her hair. Mud drizzled on her face, on her body, on her clothes. The grass bent in a way to form the outline of her strong body that was now beginning to frail. It was fall, 2001, Italy. It is now the spring of 2006 and Im still trying to forget it all. That moment was something a young eleven year old girl should never have to go through.
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I walk to my bedroom window, my stride shaky and weak as can be. I kneel down into thé whiteness of my dandelion colored carpet. My knees choshoned by its fluffy hands, as id to catch a performer at a concert during the wave. I look straight out the window as if hoping to see the image of my mom and I in the snow with our tall boots stretching to our knees, our socks barley showing their faces. The snow falling in our hair like sprinkles in a candy shop.
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But im only disappointed with the color of two amethyst dots staring back at me.
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I hang my head down and tuck a few strands of black wavy hair behind my ear, while some of it stays in-frontof my face. A clear crystal drops from my face and rolls down my cheek and into my lap and down my tan leg.
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