Jessie crawled out of bed, her hair tousled and messy as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Each morning began with the echoes of harsh words_ voices of abuse and misuse that had become a grim routine. Though she had grown accustomed to it, everytime she heard those voices, they reopened old wounds and unraveled memories buried deep within her heart.
At eleven, Jessie's life changed one evening when her mother asked her to fetch clothing from her designer. After finishing chores, she accidentally dozed off, waking only once darkness had settled in. She rushed out, anxious to complete her task before it was too late. Along the way, she came across a man struggling with a dropped bundle. Out of kindness, she offered to help.
But in the sudden terrifying turn, the man forced her to the ground and tried to take advantage of her. Though Jessie struggled and resisted, he subjected her to painful violations. She was just eleven. What could she do? Just as things threatened to get worse, the presence of people passing by startled the man, forcing him to stop and flee.
Jessie dragged herself home, her clothes half - torn, bruises blooming across her skin. Every step ached. As she entered, her mother stood in the living room, her face etched with anger at her late return.
"How many times have I told you to stop going outside to play?"her mother snapped. " look at how dirty you are. And what were you doing outside at this hour? What about your books_ aren't they enough for you? You've grown so stubborn. I can't stand stubborn and disobedient children. You know that".
Her mothers tirade continued, giving her no chance to explain what had happened. Silent tears slid down her cheeks as her mother's words cut deeper than the bruises on her body.
Jessie soaked in the bathtub, her sore body hidden beneath the water. The faint sting of her mother's scolding still burned in her ears, each word settling heavy and sharp inside her. The ache wasn't just from today_ it felt old and heavy, hidden deep in her bones. She wondered, for the hundredth time if she'd ever really belonged anywhere, least of all here. Gnawing doubt crept into her heart as she held her breath beneath the surface, her ears filled with the muffled silence only the bathtub could give.
She wished for something _ anything_ to pull her out of this loneliness. A quiet voice in her mind sprinkled hope: maybe, somewhere, someone would hear her. Maybe she could find her own happiness, even if she had to search for it herself.
" Do you want to kill yourself?" Her mother's voice rang out, hard and cold. "If so , then don't do it in my house. I'm already tired of working day and night to feed you and your sister's . At least, my burden will decrease when you are no more. But please don't kill yourself here." She stormed out, leaving only silence_ and Jessie, more wounded than before.
The words lingered like fog over Jessie's head. The memory surfaced, unbidden. Just days ago, Jessie had overheard her mother whispering to her aunt in the kitchen, the crack in the door just wide enough for a secret to slip through.
"He left us in the hospital the day she was born. Didn't even look back. Stayed just long enough to see her face_ and then he was gone. Left us both behind ."
So her father hadn't vanished from the world, not exactly _ only from theirs. He'd held her, maybe for a moment, then chose to go.
She imagined a hospital room: the harsh fluorescent lights, the smell of disinfectant, and a man's silhouette turning away, shouldering the weights of a new beginning he didn't want. Her breath caught in her throat. No wonder she felt invisible, like she was always standing on the outside, unwanted by the people she need the most. It was as if no one had ever truly wanted her, not from her very first breath.
Jessie surfaced and blinked back her tears, gripping the edges of the tub. Even surrounded by warm water, she felt cold and alone.
But somewhere beneath all that emptiness, a tiny spark flickered_ a silent promise to be there for herself, to keep going, no matter how heavy the world felt.
Wrapping herself in a towel, she shuffled to her room, one small step at a time, her mind still echoing with broken words and silent wishes. If no one else would fight for her, maybe_ just maybe_ she could learn to fight for herself.