Identity

I was the girl that all the freshman wanted to be and know. I was the girl that had it all: brains, talents, friends, and looks. Straight A's every semester, made the varsity team for basketball my freshman year, had the friends that were identical to me, and for looks, you can just put it as blonde with blue, magical eyes. I had a wonderful boyfriend as well. So, you might want to call this the "perfect life" huh?
Well, think again. No, I have no perfect life. It's what you call putting on a false smile so people don't ask questions.

My home life is terrible. My sisters and I are abused by my step father, Bill. I come to school with black and blues all over my body, and when people ask about them, I just say I'm clumsy. If my teachers ask, I say the same thing, or even better: I had no idea! Bill's a huge gambler and likes getting drunk. He can't control himself, and he even hits my mother. My mother has no idea what to do. She's too scared to divorce him, or to call the police, because last time she did that, she was in the hospital. So, obviously, she's not that stupid to report him again, but I do know she sneaks therapy every once in a blue moon. My brother, Marc, is the luckiest one out of any of us. He got a full scholarship to Boston University, and never has to come home again. As you see, my home life is just splendid.

As for the rumors I hear throughtout school, it just makes my life worse. I hear things like my boyfriend is hooking up with other girls, like the cheerleaders. Anytime I confront him, he denies it. He isn't too stupid either to just say, "Of course Mallory! I'm having sex with some of the cheerleaders. It's only because you're saving yourself until marriage." No, he isn't that dumb, but the rumors kill me. I don't usually listen to them, but I am suspicious. The other rumor I heard, was so out there. It was about my best friend, Catarina. I heard she talks terribly about me behind my back, and says things like i'm a whore, and am no virgin. Things like that piss me off, because I'm in church every sunday and would never think of having sex before marriage.

My life isn't perfect. Its far from that. I'm abused. I'm cheated. I'm false. I'm talked about. I'm fake. I'm just like a barbie, and that's all I've ever been. Until I'm out of this town, this state, I'll be all these things. There's nothing I can do to stop them, and I need to face those facts.