Carter buys me an apartment far away from
the Joneses, and the deed is in my name.
“I remember you liked to draw. There are
artists in this complex.”
Drawing…
I look at my hands. That was my dream.
Until the first time I stole food and had my
fingers broken.
I indicate that he can leave.
He grips the doorframe.
“The basement was so dark and cold. After
く
you died, I lived down there…”
“So?”
I don’t care about his confession.
Carter clenches his fists. “About that call, I…”
“Enough!”
I smile, a cruel smile.
“Didn’t you call me trash? Well, I became a
prostitute.
“Thanks to you, I didn’t starve.”
Carter is stabbed by my words. His hair has
grayed.
く
He stumbles away, no longer the cocky young
man.
I slam the door.
That call was the last time I spoke to Carter.
That year, at fourteen, I couldn’t hide
anymore.
Before, I had cut my hair and dressed as a
boy.
But at fourteen, I started my period.
Blood ran down my legs, and the men turned
on me.
Women can’t live in the slums.
く
Several hands dragged me to a bed, exposing
my curves.
I cried my last tears and called my brother
with my bloody hands.
“I’m hurt. I want to come home…”
A voice says, “Do you have to ruin Lily’s
birthday?”
Still, I wanted comfort.
I told him I was violated.
“You’re worthless. You want to come home
that badly?”
He hung up.
L
I lay on the dirty bed and saw flies.
1 should have died there.
But someone threw me bread.
“Payback, little whore.”
I had used my body to get… food.
I bit into the bread, swallowing it whole.
I want to live. I want to go home!
This will happen again, right?
I can sell myself for food.
I became a shell, giving up all dignity to
survive.
L
I slide down the door and look at myself.
I don’t want to be buried in the past.
I see my drawing supplies and pick up the
pen.
