The Most Unfortunate Girl That Ever Lived

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This was it. The end. As the metal of the handcuffs bit into my wrists it became even more real. My life was over. Just when I had found true happiness. Known what it was like to love and be loved. Even if it was by the man who I had sworn to hate. I closed my eyes and tried to remember where it all had started.

A year ago...

Standing in front of the mirror made me realize how much I had changed since last year. Once upon a time, I was an exercise junkie and on my way to becoming a black belt in taekwondo. Now, there was hardly any muscle on my bones. Like it would only take a gust of wind to throw me off my feet.

It took an hour for me to brush my hair, as it hadn't been combed for ages. There was little of it left now. As if the acne breakouts weren't enough, the constant anxiety had caused most of my hair to fall out.

As I get ready, I wonder whether I should be proud of myself or ashamed. Should I be proud of myself for trying to live despite losing two people I loved all in one year? Or should I be ashamed that both of them had been murdered and I was still no where close to avenging them ?

The legal system in our country was pathetic. Only the rich and influential got their way. But even the fact that I wasn't one of them, felt like my fault somehow. It seemed like my failure.

Just then, the door opened, and my mother came in. She was my carbon copy except for the fact that she was prettier. We had the same brown eyes and wavy dark brown hair.

The bags underneath her eyes showed how exhausted she was. The smile on her face couldn't hide the fact that her cheerful demeanor was a mere facade. She had lost both the love of her life and their son not too long ago.

" Honey, let me do your makeup for your first day," she said. This was our ritual. When I was in school, on the first day of class, she would pick out my clothes. As I got older and started choosing my own clothes, she became my makeup artist instead, for such days.

I knew this time, however, she was only putting on a show of excitement for my sake. After my father and brother died, we also died with them. If we were living to an extent, it was only for each other.

As I passed through the dining room, I caught sight of my sister sitting at the dining table. She had a calculator in one hand and a pen in another. Her curly brown hair looked messy and unkempt. This wasn't my fashion-obsessed party girl of a sister. But a somber, brooding figure. Someone who was falling apart, yet trying to hold it together for the sake of her family.

My father's treatment had cost us a fortune. Despite the obvious medical negligence on the part of his attending physician, the hospital refused to pay us any compensation.

We weren't even left with enough money to file a legal case. Not that it would have made any difference with our corrupt legal system.

When Sasha wasn't at work, she was busy making calculations as to how we could save enough to pay back our loans. My mom and sister were two extraordinarily brave women, and nothing made me more proud.

As I waited for the bus to arrive, I remembered how my father would always give me some sort of present on such occasions, usually a book. So did my brother. But now they won't ever again.

As I sat in the bus, surrounded by happy students talking about their families which were intact, I felt like dying. Every street that we passed through, was a reminder of all the things I had lost.

The Chinese restaurant at the corner where my father and I would stuff ourselves with kung pao chicken.The city library where I and my brother would spend hours pouring over books. Every place in the city held memories.

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