Katia Jones and the Great Journey Called Life

[simfreakkristen]

Hi. I'm Katia. I am twelve years old and the middle child of three. I have a brother named Daniel. He is 14. My other brother is Michael. He is 6 months old. My life is hard ever since my mum died giving birth to Michael. My brothers and I live with our dad. He hits me. Never Daniel or Michael, just me. I think he will end up hitting Mike (Michael) when he is older. After all, he took our mother away, or so Dad thinks. I believe our father is scared to hit Daniel. He is a skater boy who can beat up a twenty-year-old in 5 seconds flat. I know because I was there the night Mum became pregnant with Michael. Here's what happened: We were walking down to Wal-Mart to buy a gallon of ice cream and a cake for my birthday. Daniel went in to get the things. When he came out, 11-year-old me was at the pay phone making a collect 911 call. Mum was being raped. Daniel pulled the man off of her and punched him, kicked him and bit him. It ended with the man laying on the ground and police sirens coming into the parking lot. Mum was pulled away on a stretcher and later told she was pregnant. She almost aborted Mike, but I told her she couldn't blame the baby for her rape. Daniel said so too. So she kept baby Michael. However, the birth was difficult.


Mum was killed and I carried Michael out of the hospital. My older brother and I sat Mikey on the casket for a moment at the funeral. He smiled. I believe Mum saw her son smile and smiled herself, as the sun got a lot brighter at that moment. After her death, I was placed in my father's home. He hit me so hard Daniel called the police. My brothers and I were doled out to foster homes. My foster parents sent me to a covenent.


It will be around a year and 9 months until I am allowed to leave. Age 14 comes and the nuns throw us out. On occasion, the most generous nuns slip us money the night before we turn 14. Sister Mary Clara likes me. I think of her like a mother. She is only 20 years old. I believe she might be the nun to slip me the money. She'll walk in my room, her blonde hair hidden by her long black habit, and hand me about $600. She'll say "Use it well. Pool it with your savings. Come back if you need more money." Just like all the nice nuns. Of course it is always enough. We're allowed to spend only $5 of our weekly pocket money every month. It teaches us how to not be gluttonous with our money or some crud like that.


I miss one thing from home that we can't have here: :coffee2: Ahh a nice hot cup of coffee. That's the first thing I'm going to do when I get out of here: hit Starbucks!! Oh, a Double Caramel Frappuchino! Fattening, but worth it. Daniel and I used to stop at Starbucks on our way to school to buy a Double Caramel Frap. Mom usually gave us money. We didn't mind sharing. I sometimes bought my own, and Daniel his. That was rare and we were in much better moods on those days when we got seperate coffees. I soooooooo miss coffee. :coffee3: