Girl In Trouble

You begin a story with an empty page, then you choose the problem that will construct the motive for the story. Peaked your interest hasn't it? Until the author makes a dreadful decision that became the catalyst for your suffering and made you lose your sanity drastically. It is apparent that my very own author wanted me to live in despair for a long period of time, it's no secret that's why I'm a complete mess whose rationality has been drained down the pipe. Like a blank sheet of paper, my skin is white. Bandages wrapped around my arms and thighs; some loose, some tight. I can feel the weight of my mind from carrying my burdens, as if I was being thrown unto the sea with shackles and irons attached to me. With no other place to go, I stood in front of what seemed to be an orphanage. My clothes tattered and hanging by a thread, I was soaking wet from the rain. A visible bruise unfurling around my eye making me ache whenever I attempt to wipe my tears. Starting from this day I was alone. The old man who saw me that day deluged in cigarettes and smelled like vending machine coffees. He said, "Dear God, child, what happened to you?" My parents didn't want me. Yet, I remember those faces of the ones who tried to help me. They presented me a blank sheet of paper telling me to write down my problems, but I couldn't. I could only stare at the blank paper, as if it was an endless void of nothingness.