The morning sun peeked through the curtains, but it didn't warm me. My cheek still throbbed from yesterday's slap, and every time I touched it, the sting reminded me that I wasn't allowed to be like my brothers. I wanted to scream, to cry, to shake the world awake and tell them all I was more than they believed. But I didn't. I couldn't. So I sat quietly on my bed, staring at my notebook, thinking about what I could do today.
I love drawing. My pencil felt like the only thing that listened to me without judgment. I picked it up and opened my notebook to a blank page. My hand shook a little as I started sketching, but slowly, the lines began to form shapes, shapes that reflected everything I wished I could be: strong, free, unstoppable. Outside, I could hear George and Brandon laughing and arguing over some game, their voices echoing through the house. I pressed my pencil harder on the paper. I would not be silent. Not entirely.
I glanced at the corner of the room where my skateboard leaned against the wall. It was smaller than my brothers', but it was mine too. I had been dreaming of skating every day, imagining the wind in my hair and the thrill of speed. For a moment, I wondered if I could just sneak out and ride for a few minutes, just far enough to feel free, then return before anyone noticed. My heart raced at the thought. I could hear my father's voice in my head, telling me girls aren't allowed to do these things. But another voice quiet, stubborn, mine said, Maybe just once.
I tiptoed toward the door, my hands brushing the notebook and the edge of the skateboard. The floor creaked, and I froze. My chest pounded. Outside, I heard my mother moving in the kitchen, humming softly. She didn't look at me, but somehow, I felt guilty for even thinking about taking this small step. Still, I wanted to feel it the taste of my own freedom, however tiny it might be.
I pushed open the door slowly and stepped into the hallway. The air smelled faintly of cooking, and the sunlight cast long shadows on the floor. My brothers were outside, too far away to see me, but I could hear their voices, full of energy and laughter. I lifted the skateboard, my fingers brushing against its worn surface. Just a few seconds, I whispered to myself. Just enough to remember I am not nothing.
I stepped outside and placed my foot on the board. My first push was wobbly. I almost fell, but I caught myself against the wall. My heart leaped with excitement and fear. I tried again, this time gliding a little farther. The wind brushed my face, and for the first time in a long while, I felt alive. I didn't care that my father would be angry if he saw me. I didn't care that my brothers might laugh. I felt free, even if only for a moment.
Suddenly, a voice cut through the air.
"Annie! What are you doing?"
I froze. George stood in the doorway, frowning. Brandon appeared behind him, curiosity written all over his face. My heart sank.
"I, I was just…" I stammered, my voice trailing off.
"Girls aren't supposed to do this," George said, shaking his head.
I swallowed hard and stepped off the board, pushing it back toward the wall. I lowered my head, my cheeks burning with shame. But inside, something felt different. I had tried. I had tasted freedom, even if only briefly. And that small victory mattered.
Back in my room, I opened my notebook and began to write about the morning the feel of the wind, the fear, the thrill, and the disappointment. My pencil moved quickly across the page, shaping my thoughts into words. I wrote about my brothers, about my father's rules, and about how it felt to want more than I was allowed to have.
I thought about Brian, my quiet brother who always believed in me. I wished he were here to see me now. Maybe one day he would. Maybe one day my father would see too. But for now, this notebook, these words, and those stolen moments on the skateboard were mine.
As the day went on, I felt stronger. Not powerful yet, not fearless but stronger than yesterday. I had taken a step, small but real. I leaned back against the wall and closed my eyes. My cheek still hurt, but my heart felt steadier.
One day, I promised myself, I will be more than they believed.