I AM NOBODY'S CHILD PART VII

One day, my mother and I were crossing the road. She didn’t hold my hand, so I didn’t know when it was safe to cross. Suddenly, a bicycle hit me. Miraculously, I was thrown far to the side of the road. Everyone around screamed in shock when they saw me get hit.

Logically, I should have fallen in the middle of the road, been hit by a car, and died. But somehow, I felt as if someone had carried me to the side — protecting me — because I had no injuries at all. Until now, I still wonder who saved me that day.

When we got home, my mother acted as if nothing had happened. Then she beat me for it. She beat me every day until my skin peeled. I had a mother, but it felt like I didn’t have one.

All the songs in this world about a mother’s love and kindness mean nothing to me — because I have never felt any of them. To me, a loving mother only exists in dreams.

My mother never took care of me properly. At my age, she should have guided and protected me, but instead, she let me get stuck under a truck once — I almost died several times because of her negligence.

She always said that I was an unlucky girl, that I brought misfortune to her. She constantly twisted the truth.

Even when I was still in her womb, she had already tried to harm me and wanted me gone. Of course, she tortured me as a baby too, though I didn’t know it back then.

I started remembering things when I was five years old — and from that time until now, my mother has always hated me deeply.

Outside, she badmouthed me everywhere she went. Ever since I was little, she has spread lies about me and about my father, helped by her older sister, her mother, and the rest of her family. My mother also often fought with all the neighbors in our area.

My eldest brother was cruel to me too. I still remember clearly when I was a little girl — a wooden skewer pierced my leg. He saw it but walked away, leaving me crying in pain. I finally gathered the courage to pull the skewer out myself, and blood poured from the wound. Fortunately, I didn’t get tetanus.

At that time, I tried every possible way to earn money for food and snacks: renting storybooks, selling flowers, selling fried foods — but all my efforts were in vain, because my mother always took the money I earned.

When I was between seven and twelve years old, my body needed healthy food and nutrition — but all I had was hunger, pain, and exhaustion.

PART I Click Here

PART II Click Here

PART III Click Here

PART IV Click Here

PART V Click Here

PART VI Click Here

PART VIIClick Here

PART VIII Click Here

PART IX Click Here

PART X Click Here

PART XI Click Here