The sound of the clock echoed in the huge room. I stared up at it, at its pendulum swinging side to side. Time seemed to be dragging on. The room was bare, with only a large window to look out of. Outside it, there was a whole different world. A world full of happiness and joy. But in here, in this house, the world was a completely different place. It was a cruel world; it was a world without love.
I hugged my knees closer to my chest, and rested my chin on top. It was only a matter of time before the sun was going to set, only a matter of time before darkness reached every corner of my life. I have been sitting here all day, continually staring out of the window at the life I wanted, at the life that did not want me. Clouds covered the sun now and again, disrupting the rays of light, as though trying to prevent any chance of hope reaching me.
I was being consumed by the dullness of the room, drowning in the murky green. The rays of light were my lifelines, reaching in to pull me out, but I could not grasp them.
I walked over to the mirror and saw a reflection of myself. It angered me. Why did I have to be so different? Why did I have to be me? I hated myself and I hated the reflection that stared back at me day in and day out. I hated it so much that I hadn't realised that shards of glass lay scattered on the floor and that blood was trickling from my hand. I curled into a ball on the floor, and wept as I rocked back and forth.
I remember my grandmother telling me...