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𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐍 had been a part of Zohreen's life for as long as she could remember. And here's the thing: she doesn't want to remember anything. She had the same sensations over and over since she was very little. An eleven-year-old girl shouldn't have to experience what it's like to be forgotten, alone, and ignored. An eleven-year-old child shouldn't have to experience what it's like to be rejected by her family. an eleven-year-old girl should not know what blood streaming down her skin, spilling onto the floor, forming a sea of crimson by her socks An eleven-year-old should not be referred to as "ugly" or "disgusting" by her own relatives. This is not how an eleven-year-old girl should live. An eleven-year-old girl should understand the concept of family. She should know what it's like to be loved, to feel the warmth of an embrace. She needs to feel that she is loved and welcomed. She should feel comfortable and not be concerned about what was waiting for her when she entered her own home.
Zohreen can easily recall a very significant day. The day she received the letter that would forever change her life.
In mid-July, the sun shone brightly across the countryside of Glasgow, Scotland, reaching its long fingers across the vivid blue sky. Anyone who decides to take a walk outside today is in for a treat. In fact, Zohreen was doing just that. She was outside with her family dog, Maxwell, at 1:30 p.m., the only family member who bothered to listen to the small child. They were making the most of their little time outside while we could. Her thick brown hair blew in the breeze as she strolled along the twisting gravel lane. When she arrived at the tiniest home at the end of the path, she was greeted with shouting—specifically, her mother's wails.
"This can't possibly be real! It's not going to happen! I won't allow it! I had a feeling something was wrong with her!" Her loud cry reverberated over the meadow, very likely irritating the nearby residents. Zohreen pulled the door open, which created a loud creaking noise, alerting the rest of the home that someone had entered the threshold.
"Child! You did this didn't you?" Zohreen's mother, Victoria O'Donough, sneered at her whilst waving a small piece of yellowed parchment in her face. One would believe she was pretty attractive if it weren't for her dreadful demeanor. She had beautiful brown hair that she always arranged in a way that she believed was fashionable. Her hazel eyes shone brighter than the rest of her flawlessly symmetrical face, revealing their displeasure.
"How could Zohreen have pulled it off, Mam? She spent the entire time outside." Cían, Zohreen's oldest brother, assessed the situation. If there was anyone their mother would listen to, it was the golden boy . Cían was the most attractive boy Zohreen had ever seen, in her perspective. Not like she would be attracted to him. With that knowledge, she's really only ever seen three males in her eleven years: her father, brother, and Mitchell, her (only) friend.
