Chapter 8

ANASTASIA

Life has always been this difficult. The difficulty in getting what you want and the ease in losing things you were trying to save while battling to get what you wanted.

It sucks. Why is it so easy to lose things than gain things? If there’s a word for that, then that word is equivalent to the meaning of my life.

I fucking lose all the things I thought I had and never get the things I would hold my breath for, live for, and die for.

It took me an ounce of strength to say those words to him, but there was a long silence from his end, as if I had spat out venom. I fucking wanted to eat myself out. Hide my face from the surface of the earth or curl into my shell, and never stick my head out again.

At least that’s what I’ve always done. Since age five, when I practically figured out that I had no dad and no mom and was with other kids who technically had the same issue as me,.

I knew I was doomed. And at age ten, I started requesting who my parents were, and I was told stories