The Question

I sat there in the dark, knife in my hand. I looked around as if someone was watching me, ‘cause it certainly felt like it. But that was pretty much impossible. My “parents” were on a weekend getaway and my sister was asleep. I thought about what they would do if they found me laying in my room, dead. And what about my lil sister? She’s only 5, how would she deal with it ? It didn’t matter though. After all the pain I’ve been through, I need to do this. The liers who I could trust. My family who said they’d never hurt me, or hurt each other. That’s why the parents me and my sister are living with are my adopted parents. If only everyone else knew how much suffering I’ve been through. If only they knew how much I hate my birth father. They’d feel bad that my dad killed my mom, himslef, my older sister, and the baby my mom was pregnant with. The question that runs through my head every day is why didnt he kill us? He should’ve. Then I wouldn’t have had to go through all this pain. And neither would my sister..

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