Chapter 1

After my mom forgot me on the street for the thirty-third time, it finally hit me that she really didn't love me.

When I was five, during a fight between my grandma and mom, a wine bottle came flying at me. It hit me hard, and after that, I wasn't right in the head anymore.

Grandma, who always tried to take me away, stopped reaching out to us.

Mom started to resent me even more. She cursed at me, "Why don't you just die?"

I smiled, my silly, innocent eyes staring right at her.

"Mom, if I died, would you be happy?" I asked.

Mom froze for a second, then slapped me and walked away.

Later, I saw her holding my tiny body, weeping like her whole world had fallen apart.

Once again, Mom forgot I even existed and went home alone.

I let out a sigh and shuffled along, my short legs counting the numbers on the doors until I found our apartment.

Like always, I fished the spare key out from under the rug.

I opened the door to a quiet, lonely house; Mom was out drinking again.

Mom never really cared about me.

The only one who ever loved me was Grandma. She'd come by often, always stuffing me with all kinds of yummy treats.

She'd hug me tight and say, "My precious Miriam, I've missed you so much!"

But she always came when Mom wasn't home, like she was sneaking around.

Back then, I was just a kid and couldn't figure out why.

When Mom came home, I could tell from her tired face that she was upset.

I held out the candy to her.

I said, "Mom, candy! It's sweet; it'll make you happy."

Mom's lifeless eyes fixed on the pink crystal candy.

She grabbed the candy from my hand and snapped, "Miriam! Where did you get this from?"

My lips trembled as I whispered, "Grandma... Grandma gave it to me."

I watched as Mom totally lost it, smashing everything in the house.

She cursed me as she smashed everything.

"Miriam, you're just like that old hag. You're a jinx! And just like your dad, you're a little bastard..."

But when she mentioned Dad, she started crying again, looking just as helpless as a little kid.

Mom collapsed onto the couch, her silky hair falling over her still-beautiful, though wrinkled, face.

She was really pretty. Sometimes I just couldn't help staring at her. I walked closer, hoping she'd notice me.

I really loved Mom.

I wanted so much to hug her, just like Grandma always hugged me when I was upset.

I whispered, "Mom… don't cry."

For a second, I imagined she'd pull me into her arms, warm and soft like Grandma always did.

But instead, she shoved me to the floor and threw out everything Grandma had given me, like I was nothing.

"Dirty! Filthy! Even you're filthy!" she screamed at me.

It hurt. Why did Mom always say that? I bathed every day, didn't I?

I rubbed my hands together and bit my lip, trying to explain myself in the tiniest voice.

"Mom, Miriam isn't dirty. I took a bath," I told her, almost begging.

I reached out to hold her hand, those hands that used to be soft now covered in rough calluses.

She slapped my hand away, her voice like ice. "Miriam, you've been dirty since the day you were born. Get away! Don't touch me!"

Pain shot through my hand as she hit it. My pale skin turned red and puffy, but Mom didn't even look at me.

Mom left again, like she always did, out drinking all night.

So I always had to take care of my own food.

But this time, Mom threw away all the treats Grandma gave me.

I was so hungry it hurt. I curled up in my tiny bed, dreaming Mom would take me out for burgers.

Maybe she'd get me a milkshake, or let me ride the Ferris wheel.

Those were just things the kids in my class talked about.

They'd go on and on, but I could never join in, since my mom never took me out.

I could only listen quietly.

It was past midnight when Mom came home, reeking of alcohol.

She stood in my doorway, just watching me sleep.

Suddenly, she stepped forward and wrapped her hands around my throat.

"It's all your fault! Why don't you just die? Go ahead and die!" she hissed.

I was completely unaware, sleeping soundly. My dreams had everything I ever wanted, but deep down, I knew none of it was real.

"But Mom, I still love you, I love you so much," I murmured in my sleep, a blissful smile on my lips.

Her grip loosened. Eyes wide, she collapsed to the floor, powerless.

She buried her face in her hands and sobbed, then fled the room in a panic.

In the morning, I went to kindergarten all by myself. Mom never bothered to walk me to school or pick me up.

But it was fine. I could handle it alone. Good thing the school was just down the street.

Even with my little legs, I could make it there in ten minutes.

The teacher had called Mom countless times, warning her it wasn't safe for me to walk to school alone, but Mom would just zone out, lost in her own world, her eyes empty.

She looked just like a kid in class who didn't understand a thing.

"Can I really be a good mom? Just look at me," she'd let out a crazy, bitter laugh.