The sound of Faith crying is what wakes me up. It's her normal routine that I've grown accustomed to over the months. It's honestly impressive that she manages to wake upbat the same time each morning. Six, maybe 6:05 if she fell asleep later than usual.

She only wakes up once or twice in the night, but I don't need her cries to keep me awake. My mind does that for me on its own. Even though I don't like sleeping, I don't like being awake either. Both are unpleasant yet I'm forced to do them anyway.

The six month old baby is easy for the most part. She only cries when hungry or tired and she isn't unnecessarily loud. Her only flaw is her need to be up at 6 a.m. Which unfortunately also applies to weekends. She's easy, but with the way my life is going, it's not all smooth sailing.

I balance Faith on my hip, rocking her slightly while I mix her bottle on the table in my room. You could barely see it because it's bombarded with the essential baby supplies needed to care for a small human. Faith cooes to herself, stuffing her chubby fist into her mouth as she awaits her breakfast.

I have mastered the ability to mix a bottle with one hand as I hold her in the other. The idea of feeding her formula doesn't sit well with me because I know how important breast milk is to a baby, but her dead beat mother pawned her off to me for a reason. I did what I had to.

I feed Faith her bottle as I sit down. It's a struggle to get ready while keeping an eye on her. When she's finished eating, I put her in her crib so I can get myself ready for school. I have become used to the routine over the past months. Be a mom to baby I didn't make, then work towards a future I didn't want.

Melissa, as usual, ignores me when I enter the spacious downstairs of her house. We tolerate each other for the most part, but she really only acknowledged my existence when she gets drunk so that she could tell me that I'm worthless.

She saved her more violent tendencies for when she is piss faced drunk which is luckily a rare occassion.

Hiding bruises is an unneeded stress in my life.

I pop some bread into the toaster. I always forget to eat since I'm usually caught up with other things in life, but I decided that three days without food was long enough. After smearing jam onto the two pieces of toast, I'm on my way to school. Faith is hanging off my front in her carrier, her bubbly demeanor matching the sunny morning.

The daycare is a few blocks away from school. One of the perks of this town is that most things are within walking distance of each other. A blessing for my overworked legs.

The school building coming into view is taunting. The people, loud noises, and small spaces always gave me a dull, long lasting headache which wouldn't be so bad if no one noticed me.

Unfortunately, I'm the school's token outcast. I was branded a weirdo in middle school and that title transferred over with me into high school so now I'm the butt of everyone's jokes.

I like to count how many insults would get thrown my way before the first period bell rang. The highest number so far was 15.

"Attention seeker." One..

"Suicidal emo." Two.

Someone did a facial expression to imply I was retarded. Three. Nothing like an ableist gesture to put my muteness on display.

There are many assumptions about me. About why I don't speak. About the murder of my parents. About the scars on my body. Most people assume I was born mute. Sometimes I forget I wasn't. The scars on my body are self-explanatory, but I do my best to keep them hidden. I don't need anyone prying into my life.

The first class of the day is English and our teacher is more than eager to slap us with a research paper worth 30% of our final grade. She tries easing the pain by saying it can be done in pairs, but that doesn't make it better. It's a given I'll be working alone, which is much easier for me considering I'd end up doing all the work anyway.

The day progresses with little to no physical bullying. Verbal insults are a given, but as the saying goes, 'Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will forever scar my soul.'

An unexpected foot appears in my direct path, causing me to fall. Since my hands are occupied with books, I don't have enough time to break my fall and I land on my face.

Great. That will surely bruise.

"Oops, I'm so sorry." The voice unmistakably belonged to Alice. The dark haired she-devil who makes my life more agonizing than it already is. My head is throbbing and tears are pooling in my eyes.

I pick myself up, gathering the scattered books in my hands before walking out of the building, ignoring the laughs and snickers behind me.

I hate it here.

****

The park is one of the few places where I feel peace. This park in particular holds a special place in my heart. It was where I always came with my parents when I was younger. We would play freeze tag or throw a Frisbee around. Normal family things. As normal as a family who lost their child, but it was still happier than my reality now.

My heart clenches painfully seeing parents play with their kids or a child throwing something for their dog to fetch. Being here is peaceful but also painful when watching everyone do all the things I lost. The things I don't have anymore.

My thoughts halt when a big shaggy brown dog brushes against my leg, startling me. The dopey dog looks helpless since the ball had rolled under the bench, out of his reach. He whimpers, trying to get it but he's too big.

I get on my knees and reach under the bench to retrieve the ball. The dog sits expectantly and I reel my hand back and throw it. He chases after it and my mood lifts at the simple pleasure the dog gets from chasing a ball.

If only life is that easy.

I sit back down to continue my people watching. I catch sight of the same dog running back towards me, his long fur ruffling in the wind. He drops the ball at my feet again and I bend over to pick it up.

"He likes you." I look up to see a tall brown skin boy smiling at me. He bends down and rubs the dog's head. "This is Dorito." He extends his hand to me, "and I'm Dustin."

I shake his hand. He tilts his head to me, confused.

"Not much of a talker?" He asks.

I shrug.

He looks at ke curiously, but he just gestures to his dog. "He's waiting."

I nod, standing up and throwing the ball again, Dorito taking off after it.

"It was nice meeting you," Dustin gives me a small wave before walking off after his dog. I watch the duo a while more before getting up to leave. It's time for me to pick Faith up.

***

I hope you're doing well