Tables Turned
My patchwork life could not compare to her silken existence, my street-rumbles far cries from her princess gowns.
Blood and tears dripped on the floor beneath me, painting a shocking shade of red.
I racked my brain, trying to figure out what I had done wrong, why they showered her with love and left me with nothing.
"Carol, we're back! Come see what we've got for you," my oldest brother,James, called out, his voice soft and warm, as if he had not just snubbed me moments before.
I scrubbed the blood from the floor and dragged myself into a corner to hide under a pile of junk. My eyes landed on his faded clothes, and for a second, I wondered if the pain I felt was all just a nightmare.
Bab Populer