It is time to write my story.
This is the finished rough intro to the first chapter, and there is no verbal punctuation.
These Crossroads Are Parallel
Well that is just a lie.
She says it long and slow..
Just as she may be drawing a sword out of a sheath, with her back to me.
With the undertones that state I will not defy her again.
No.
This I know was a mistake in the first place.
He is not my Father.
I repeat my sentence.
My accusation.
My death sentence.
This is my good bye.
Did you hear me?
She turns around with a fury that I have learned to fear.
At the rage that ends with aching.
My mind hurts.
I squeeze my hand a little more.
Letting the tension ease the stress.
With my 2 thumbs finding their place on the second knuckle of my pointer fingers.
I can feel it though, the pounding in my ears.
The waiting.
While she stands there staring at a wall.
Pretending not to hear me..
Though her ears work well, her eyes often fail her.
Today especially I make a point not to make eye contact.
18 years old and graduated from High School.
I had left home still 15 years old.
1 month before my 16th birthday.
There was a miscommunication.
One where I tried hard to succeed.
To work.
To finish school.
I tried hard not to follow in my moms footsteps.
Sometimes I believed I would never see her again.
This woman who was raised in a home where all roads met together.
They all crossed.
She might have made a decent life for herself...
If I had not arrived on the scene.
1 month before her 17th birthday.
