AWAY FROM HERE…

What life is this? Where am I? I am in a terrible house with a hateful man. He yells and looks at me with disgust and pure hate. He sneers my name like a filthy parasite. I look up into his coal black eyes and see just how unhappy I make him. ‘You killed her’ he slurs; he was drunk, that’s never good. ‘You took her away from me.’ He slaps me. ‘I-I didn’t mean to’ I stutter. ‘I didn’t know, I’m sorry’ I try in vain. ‘SHUT-UP’ he screeches. He punches me in the stomach with as much force as he could muster, and I fall to the ground I struggle for breath. He smiles a sick, cruel smile, finding pleasure in the pain he’s caused me. His smile slowly turns into a grimace as he yells, ‘Why couldn’t it have been you and not her?’ He hits me, blow after blow until finally, I give in and descend into the numb darkness.

The kids at school look at me with repugnance and ignore me. I wonder if they knew what I did and thought I was a monster. I wouldn’t blame them, I was a monster. No one at school talks to me. It seems like even the teachers wish to ignore me. I try to talk to them, but they just turn the other way like I’m not even alive. I wonder if anyone would notice if I were to die. Would people cry? Would people cheer? Perhaps nothing would change at all. They would go about their business like nothing happened, like I’m just mud on the bottom of their shoes.

I would like to be able to dream forever, and not have to worry about the struggle on this Godforsaken spec of dirt. I want to see my wonderful mother again, to see her smile her famous crooked grin, to see the happiness in her warm, sparkling, green eyes. I need to feel her warm touch on my cold, tear-stained cheek. We would live together for eternity in love and happiness just like we did before she ascended into the Heavens and father spiraled into depression; finding a release in alcohol, when people were my friends and didn’t glower at me all the time. I wish not to look at my dreams from the outside any longer so tomorrow when I awake I will finally be a part of them.

C'est la vie et je le déteste

A/N: This is something I made up for my Drama class. It is a monologue and we had to write it because we were studying Shakespeare, the greatest playwright EVER (Along with J.M. Barrie). He gave me a 100, but I want to see how ya’ll like it. So please tell me in a review.

P.S. - The last line means: This is life and I hate it, in French. Just if you didn’t know that.