Maria

This is my quiet place. Its peaceful sitting here looking out of the old rotting window into the darkness of the night, with nothing but street lights memorising you from a distance, nothing but the sparkling stars way up high to give you hope for something greater. I long for more moments like these, there's no fear, no hurt, no worries; its just me, my window and the view.

I yawn deeply as I wince my eyes at the bright morning sun peering through the window and stretch as I sit to look around the same old warn down attic bedroom. The room is cramped with old leather chairs and wooden furniture covered in thick white sheets of dust, whilst cob webs hang from corner to corner. My bed is a mattress of broken springs in the centre of the room surrounded by the mountains of junk with the window being the only source of light hovering just above it all. It's most certainly nothing special but its the small price you have to pay for being abandoned by your first family and unwanted by your current. The new mother I live with is the sweetest, unfortunately the same cannot be said about the father. Father is , well ... easily irritated to say the least, he's often shouting at mother and hitting things around, I am not sure if he has laid hands on her as me and my younger brother get sent out of the room when he gets too mad but I have my suspicions.

I am 18 in two weeks and have been living with Mr and Mrs Woodworth, who I now refer to as my mother and father, since I was around 6. Originally I am from mexico but my birth parents put me up for adoption for an unknown reason and I had been bouncing around all sorts of homes until Mr and Mrs Woodworth took me in. I was ecstatic to have found a couple that would 'love me,' of course I wouldn't have been so happy if I knew what their family home would turn out to be.

"MARIA!" mother shouted "breakfast is ready." I quickly got out of bed and rushed downstairs to avoid making father wait and aggravating him. We have quite an old looking house made of big grey bricks and the inside seems very old fashioned. We have 3 floors and the brick stairs connecting them are large and go around in a spiral pattern, there are some old paintings and a few family pictures mounted to the walls. The floors are made of wood and sound as though you could fall through at any moment and are covered in a thin red carpet. There are 2 bedrooms on the second floor, 2 on the third and one in the attic which is where I sleep, amongst all of the ancient antiques and creepy crawlies that I find in my cloths or half way up my leg in the middle of the night. For some reason father made me move to the attic and mother wouldn't dare to question him so i'm stuck up there breathing in dust and ammonia from past rats fesses that never got cleaned up. On my way down the stairs I accidentally crashed into father half way. I froze as he glared at me with that deafening look in his eye which caused all of the hairs on my body to stand on edge, "sorry father," I stuttered, he stayed silent whilst rolling his eyes and continuing to walk up the stairs. I needed to take a moment to steady my breathing before I carried on the the kitchen. I hated to admit it but I was terrified of him even tho he would never hurt me ... right?

He hasn't always been like this, I know its hard to believe but its true. When I first came to live here he was so happy, he loved to be out and about so would often take us to places like the beach or rock climbing and now we're too scared to even ask him to go to the park. It all started when mother found out she was carrying twins after she was told she would never have any, hence why they adopted me, it was a blessing. A miracle! This is when father seemed to have turned on me. Now he was having biological children there was no need for me, at least that's what I assumed because I was never brave enough to confront him about it. He only got worse when the babies where born. You see, one of the babies was born still and there was nothing doctors or nurses could do about it. I think that's why father is the same way with Marcus as he is with me, he blames him for the loss of his other baby. Mother of course knows this isn't true and tries her best to reassure us both that we did nothing wrong. She always comes up with the same excuse that father is just having a bad day but we know that she is just as fearful of him as we are and wouldn't dare tell him to stop storming around or raising his voice.

"MARIA!" mother repeated "breakfast is ready." I shouted back "coming mother," and continued to rush down to the kitchen. I finally made it to the table and sat beside Marcus to eat my breakfast. "morning" he said in his dreadful attempt to an american accent, "good day mate," I replied in my attempt to sound Australian, we both started laughing whilst mother stood leaning against the door frame smiling at us whilst she drank her coffee. Life wasn't all bad as long as father wasn't around. Marcus is a shy young boy but around me and mother he really comes out of his bubble, he has the best personality and don't get me started on his little attitude. He has the cutest round face with a little button nose and the thickest glasses which make his big bright blue eyes look even bigger.

Knock. Knock. Suddenly there where knocks at the front door which made us all jump, leading to me and Marcus laughing excessively. "stay here, i'l get it," mother said. She left the room and opened to door to find that no one was there, she was about to head back inside before noticing a small box, about the size of a shoe box tied with a ribbon and a label that had my name on it. Mother picked up the box and had another look around to see if anyone was near but she couldn't see anyone. She came back inside, shut the door and returned back into the kitchen. "it's for you," she said whilst handing me the box. Puzzled, I took it "what is it?" I asked, "I don't know, it was sitting on the doorstep," she answered. "open it up," Marcus said excitedly. I pulled the ribbon to untie the knot, placed the box on the table and removed the lid. Inside was a letter, an old baby picture and a small teddy bear. I unfolded the letter and began to read it out loud. The letter read:

" To Maria,

Hello my darling daughter. I am so sorry that I had to do what I did, it was for your own safety and I hope you know that me and your father love you. You won't be reading this at the time I am writing it but I promise you that by the time you are 18 I will find you and give you this box. In this box is a picture of you with your older sister Natalia for proof if you do not believe my letter. The bear is yours from when you was a baby. I remember how much you loved that bear, I hate to think how upset you was when you had to leave without him, you called him boo bear and you was inseparable. I wish to meat with you. I will explain everything that has happened leading up to now and why now is the perfect time for you to come home, you don't realise how important you are yet. I must go now but my number is written on the back of the picture, give me a message so we can arrange a place, date and time. I will see you soon my precious girl.

Love Mum xxx "

Once I was done reading the letter I glanced up to see my adopted mother and Marcus staring at me in surprise, no one knew what to say or what to do, "don't tell father," I begged, I knew for sure that he would take the first chance that he could to get rid of me and I for one did not enjoy the thought of living with some stranger who abandoned me all those years ago and I especially was not leaving my mother and Marcus with this monster!

Then, out of no where, "don't tell father what?" ...