HOPE

“Look at that trash walking down the street. Look at her painted up face. I’ve seen her on the block at night, hopping from car to car. I have no idea what her name could be, but I don’t much care to know. Her dad left them when she was three, who knows why but who would care about her anyway. Her mom is weird, she never comes out of the house and when she does she looks beaten up. I think she might be a crack addict. She looks just like her mother, Ugly. But she’s not. At school, no one talks to her, and she doesn’t normally stay in class long enough for someone to start a conversation with her either. But it doesn’t bother many people. The majority of them don’t even notice her. I see her with so many different guys a week I’m sure she has something incurable.
Her hair is short and matted, like it’s never even met a brush or comb before, her arms are all banged and bruised with a few fresh and old scars. She has long scared up legs and a small petite figure. Her face smug and depressing, never has one seen a smile on it. Normally she’s in the same halter top with the lace cascading down the sides and her holey demin skirt, but sometimes while she’s at school she’ll wear pants. She just smells like an outcast too. There is no distinct smell to her; it’s almost like a mix of several men’s fragrances. Sick.
She’s too weird for her own good. God I hate her. She’s perfect in such a repulsing way it drives me crazy. I hope she hears people say how they hate her and think she is the scum of the earth. I hope she can hear the snickering of people as she walks by. I hope she would just disappear from our lives. From my life. Why can’t she just be like everyone else!


(Two weeks later) My mom came back home from the hospital to find my lifeless body on the floor. She thought I was playing a game with her, that I had fallen asleep on the ground or something. She ran to me and shook me yelling “WAKE UP! WAKE UP! WHY? WHY? WHY? GOD OH PLEASE WAKE UP!” but I didn’t. I left her a note saying I wish she could start her life now. She deserved so much more than a trouble maker daughter like me. I loved her so much and I tried everything I could to stay strong for her, but I just couldn’t do it anymore.
“I know that this won’t mean much now mom, but I love you so much. I’m so sorry I couldn’t provide for you, I couldn’t keep you healthy. I’m so sorry I wasn’t strong enough mom; I just could not stand to hear people anymore. I could not stand to look at who I was. So I think this is how it was meant to end. Now you can marry someone who can take care of you and maybe you will have a son or daughter that is good and fits in. I wish that for you mom. Thank you for being my rock.”
They put my picture in the local news paper, but hardly anyone even took a notice to who I even was. They just shook their head saying what a shame it was that I would do something so selfish, and some would say they knew me and was a friend to me. But they know their lies.
This is my letter to you.
“I hope that you know what you’ve done. I hope you see me in your reflection. I hope your heart aches knowing that you pushed me to this. I hope you feel guilty. I figure I should tell you about myself now that I am gone forever. I was fifteen. I had blue eyes; auburn hair. My mom has been sick with cancer for the last nine years. The medical bills started piling up and my mom couldn’t keep a job long enough to pay the rent. A girl I once knew told me about how much money young girls can make doing “favors” for older men, I needed the money so I tried it out. I was thirteen. My mom was in and out of the hospital and I didn’t know what else to do. Soon I started to get “paid” by the hour. My mom is forty one years old and even though she lost all her hair, she is still the most beautiful woman I had even seen in my life. Gosh how I will miss her. I could never have told her where the money was coming from; I knew it would break her heart to know that her only girl was selling herself out.

I wouldn’t say I had anything incurable, not that I had been tested but I did what I had to do to take care of my mom. I knew I was different, I didn’t expect people to understand my situation, but I didn’t expect to not be able to handle the hate either. With all the money with my mom’s hospital bills and the lack of income coming into our home. I tried to give all my money to my mom. Yes, we were poor. And there really is no explanation for that. But I didn’t think that would be important in life, I guess I was wrong. So now you know a little bit more about me. And I just wanted to say that you didn’t know me. But look what you’ve done.

Oh, and by the way… My name was Hope.”