Always remember It's not where you are from it's where you belong
That was the last words from the text my brother sent to me.
I take in a deep breath to 10 years back, when I and my younger sister, Betty were on the Street. Begging for alms from passerby's, we were dejected and thrown to the street after our biological mum died due to drug addiction.
My biological Dad came back a week after her funeral and dumped us in his family home where his old mum who is a retired sex worker and sister resides who is a sex worker in practice lives and also practice sex trades by recruiting young girls from the age of 13 and above.
My Dad's family (Grandma and Aunt) promised my Dad I and my sister won't indulge in such. And we are going to be educated provided he kept sending money for our upkeep.
But everything changed after my Dad was caught for drug smuggling abroad and subsequently jailed.
I and my little sis started running various errands or should I say was put to child labor and when Grandma had issues with her liver and we couldn't pay her medical bills so she kicked the bucket the worst happened.
My Aunt told a 12years old me that is time I joined the business that prospective customers are already seeking for me. I refused to sell my body so I fled the house with my 8years old sisters to the street.
We did manual jobs and beg to feed until I met him.
He was a rich kid giving alms to the street kids when he saw me and hugged me yelling Patricia. I was shocked because I am Mirabel and there is no way I could have a cross path with such rich kid. Later on, I discovered Patricia was his late twin same age as us who passed away two years ago from an auto crash.
And Patrick developed some psychological defaults after his twin's death. A month later Patrick and his mum came to the street for the purpose of charity, as usual, he bought lots of food for me and my little sister Mirabel.
We became friends within a short time when his mum came to our destination he asked her Can she be our Patricia, mum? I was astounded by these words
And that was how I became Patricia Collins but my little sister kept her name, Betty. Over the years I have been able to erase the memory of Betty.
But my Dad back into the country after serving his jail term brought back the memories and out of the fear of facing him.
I found solace in drugs, my foster mum, brother, and my sister Betty discovered. And I was so scared to face them also because it seems I just can't get away from the dysfunctional family I was born into.
But the note Patrick sends touch my nerves making me realize though I am from a dysfunction it doesn't mean I'm dysfunctional because I don't belong there anyone. For I belong to the Collins, a family I found true love and hope to live on.
And I plan to see my biological father soon alongside the family I belong too. Mum offered to register my biological Dad into a rehabilitation center and help him a new life with the needed funds.
Thanks for checking my blog
This is my entry to to creative contest by @zord189.
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