Healer

My Heaven

My name doesn't matter and my existence doesn't either, I'm just a girl born in mysterious times, I have never knew where I came from, never met my parents, I had no family, I'm basically ... no one.

Raised from one home to another, 12 last time I counted, until I turned 18.

Now living on my own.

I had quite a life. My guardian said that 20 years ago on a stormy night filled with noises of thunder, she heard a strong knock on the front door. The knock was as loud as the thunder itself so she hurried her way outside and that's where I was, few days old, covered in a red velvet blanket with some strange gold embroidery on the side. It looked ancient, very ancient and I wished it could talk to and give me the answers I always longed for everytime I look at it.

Childhood :

I loved cotton candy, it was my favourite treat. I would ask for it everytime I could. It's soft, it's sweet and it's light pink. Something about it always made me feel warm, the colour maybe ? It just seemed to trigger something inside of me.

The swings in the park next door at late afternoons.

When all the kids are gone, when the sun is about to set, there was no one to take me home and make sure I did my homework and ate my dinner, that's when I liked to go there. When I'm sad, when I'm happy. It was my favourite place.

Life at the orphanage and at the different homes wasn't easy. Some were nice, some were mean and others were just ... creepy. I can say that by the age of 10, I have already seen it all.

I was taken advantage of, working at some family business in restaurants or bars, babysitting their kids, I witnessed fights over alcohol, drug money and sex. They were getting paid for taking me inside their homes "Be grateful" they said "You're alive and breathing" and I was ... for sometime until I realized I wasn't.

I wanted to be left alone.

No one has ever done something for the good will of their hearts. They always wanted something in return. Mostly the money they got for taking me in. But I never felt truly wanted.

School was my getaway ... at first.

My few first years were fine, I had friends, I was good and then we just ... grew up.

People around me started to understand where I came from. Some felt sorry for me, some dragged their children away from me. They didn't want them to be close with someone like me. And as we grew older, the world got harsh.

In high school I was isolated, I don't speak unless I was spoken to, I didn't look for trouble, I kept my distance because I knew very well that everyone else did the same ... only to me.

At some point I was called "Cursed" and "Unwanted" but I already knew that so it's fine by me. I lived my life knowing exactly what I am. Nothing.

After graduating, I was finally old enough to move out on my own. 18 years old, 2 years ago. I started as a freelance writer. Articles, blogs, online magazines, anything I can find. And I was good at it. I could write anything from the comfort of my very own small apartment in this lonely neighbourhood, which I really like.

Away from everything, everyone, the noise, the whispers ... the people.

I locked myself in my home, and I created a bubble just for me. The way I like it. My little heaven. And I was okay. Until that one night.