Hello. Im glad I found a platform to express myself. Please post this up if you can. Im nineteen. My name is Narissa Davis. The story is nearly seven years back, when I was around twelve. We used to live in small town in Romania, where there were no nice schools, or anything, everyday was the same. I was an only child. My mother died when I was nine. My father remarried two years after her death. My stepmother wasnt very nice. My father was usually out for business and work. He always told me that God had sent me a new mother to help me better with life. I never really understood what that meant. She was the most detrimental thing ever happened to me. She never really looked at me as her child. All she was after was my fathers money. I hate to say this, but it was very much like the Cinderella story. I know things like this dont happen anymore, but I really was a kid who wouldnt speak for herself. And people like that woman arent born everyday. Creating her was Gods Plan to Give us that idea of what hell would be like. She didnt let me do anything. She used to lock me up in bathrooms for no reasons, she let me starve in the night for NO reasons at all. I was sent to a really bad elementary school, where kids arent treated nice. I never really understood what was her point, what did she want. But I guess, people like her are just menace to the world. Three years passed, I grew up. My stepmother got a health attack. She went into a disease called Creutzfelt, where the persons nervous system nearly dies. She didnt have much time left. Even seeing her sick, I never really got that affection for her. Two months passed, and my stepmother went. I still remember her last words while she died in the white hospital bed, I know I wasnt good to you, Narissa. I wasnt good to anybody. I just.. .. just dont know. Please, forgive me if you can. A tear trickled down on the right side of her cheek. She held my hand as she said this and I cant explain what I felt inside my heart. Its been around seven years, now. I dont say that I hate her today, but she kinda ruined my childhood by first torturing me with her presence, and then leaving me saying the most unexpected thing she could. My father and I often talk about her. Theres nothing much to talk, though. I dont know what she had in her mind, her heart. A story by Narrissa Davis. You can tell us your stories and feel better about life. The comments might warm you up. Were only a message away. Happy sharing!
Posted on: Sat, 19 Jul 2014 01:45:17 +0000
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