My blood is crashing uncontrollably inside my heart. There is a spark inside of me, an infinite amount of fiery passion. I am going insane.  My nails dig deep into my flesh, as I bring myself to look at the broken mirror in front of me. I scream and I shout, and let it all out. The broken toilets sigh, and flakes of beige wall paint float softly onto my glistening new flats. My flawless skin is now covered with sticky tears, my auburn hair has flown out of place from my thrashing, and my smooth lips are now bleeding heavily due to my constant chewing. I collapse to the sticky floor, and start to think. I have been abandoned, due to the fact that I am a failure. Every year, I come back to this deserted washroom where I was left behind my parents. The echoing sounds of my piercing screams still haunts me in my sleep.  At seven years old, you come to understand a lot more than you earn credit for. But the one thing I never understood was, why me?

I give up. Grabbing my floral bag, I stomp out and do not take one more glance behind me. As I am driving home, I realize I have to face my fake parents again. They thought when they had adopted me, that I would never remember my biological parents. But, you see, thats the secret I have been hiding all these years, I have been pretending to be a person that I am not. I’m not as perfect as their children are, or will I ever be. No matter how hard I try, I am always the one who falls short in sports, academics, and health. I believe that I am sixteen, but I can never be too sure.

I throw my shoes across the manicured lawn, and slowly start to climb the sycamore tree near my bedroom window. The beautiful birds chirp a lovely sound as I arrive. Turning my head, I glance at the ribbons of colour gleaming against the soft lake. At least there are some things in life worth living for. I climb into my room, and start to clean myself up. Just as I am about to take a shower, an alarming knock pounds through my room.

“Come in,” I shout as I wrap a towel around my head, and my body. I open the door and my brother walks in. He steps in the room cautiously and sits on the side of my bed.

“Well mom and dad are waiting for you downstairs, and they wanted me to come and get you,” he chokes out. He doesn’t look directly at me and plays around with his fingers.

“Um, tell them that I will be down in around five minutes, I just need to take a shower first,” I reply slowly. I wave goodbye to him, and slowly start to do my beauty routine. I curl my hair, put on simple makeup and pop in my contacts. It’s like an instinct to do this, I have never wondered why I do this every single day. I grab a fresh piece of clothing that has been already assembled for me, and bounce down the spiraling staircase. My slender fingers wrap against the rail and slowly slide to a stop. My family is waiting and looking at me expectantly. I take a deep breath, knowing something is quite peculiar.

“Happy birthday, Maggie!” they cheer excitedly. I sigh a big relief, is today really my birthday?

“Thank you,”I say, bowing down to a low courtesy. My mother and father reach out for each others hands. My mother looks anxiously at me. Everyone is silent as I sit down across from them.

More glances and whispering is passed around and then my mother starts,” We want to tell you the truth, the truth about your past.” A sick churning feeling starts in my throat and suddenly I cannot reply back to her. My mother hints for everyone to leave, and suddenly I am the only one in the room. My dress is now hugging me uncomfortably, and my headband is making me nauseous. What’s happening?

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