Chapter 1. Why me?
Hey. I'm Maliya. Maliya Diamonique Styles Blaq to be exact. I am 15 years old. So, you may be like "Oh here comes another girl complaining about her life. I deal with plenty of this at school already." But I am not about to complain. I could have gotten life way worse. And I am thankful that I didn't. But it also isn't all heaven and glory either. More like a roller coaster of confusion and hatred. Not me hating people, but people hating me.
So... I was born. . . Different. Different as in I was born as an experiment. Yes. An experiment. Now don't go thinking that I look different or am a fragile teenager. I simply just have mutated genes. It's not like I have bird genes or anything like that. I still have only human genetics. Some scientists had wanted to see what would happen if they took some of 12 male adult genes and 12 female adult genes and make a child.
Weird I know. They created me. Built me from scratch I guess you can say. I still don't know how the whole process works. I'm confused about it. And it doesn't help that my "parent" hates me for some unknown reason.
"Maliya! Get you Butt down hear!!!" I hear my father shout.
I run down the attic stairs to my Father. "Yes Father?" I say.
"What the hell are you doing"!!!
"I am sorting the boxes in the attic just like you asked me to Father." I answer politely and truthfully.
"Well hurry the heck up then. You need to complete this list of chores before you have to make dinner!" He hands me a list with about 13 more things on it. And I only have 1 hour till dinner needs to be made.
"Father-"
"I don't care what you have to say Maliya. Get it done! And remember that my buddies are coming over tonight for dinner. So cook well or it's back to the garage with you!" He yelled at me.
"Yes Father." I managed to squeak back.
My father is scary. He is a HUGE Alchoholic and is always mean to me. Some times he beats me for no reason at all. He if I maken1 tiny mistake or even do something as simple as look in the wrong direction, he banishes me to the Garage. His friends are just like him, except they dont have kids. Which is the problem. Then that means they beat on me too.
You might think that the police should be called on him. And they have. But my father is so rich, that he pays his way out of everything. I have no clue who he works for. But it must be hard. He is so rich that we live in a mansion. Like, I'm not joking. It is called the Blaq Mansion. But I have barely any clothes. My father buys me a few clothes, shoes, and makeup. Evry few months, But he says the makeup is only to make me "More Beautiful." Whatever.
I finished my chores and made dinner. Lobster, Steak, Salmon, mashed potatoes and gravy, Pie, and many other hard-to make-things. I served my father and his friends, then stood in the corner to wait for a command.
I believe I haven't told you what my hobbies are. (Well....what I do when I complete my chores and have a few minutes before I am yelled at by my father) I like to Sing and Dance. Funny. They are the two things my father hates the most. I want to be a proffesional singer and dancer. Somewhere where I can be free and do what I want when I am older.
"Maliya!"
Oh no. I know that tone. He is going to beat me.
I walk quickly towards him. "Yes Father?"
"The potatoes are cold and you forgot the beers!!!" He screamed at me.
"I'm sorry Father." I apologized. But I know I had brought out the beer to the table. I am positive. He and his buddies must be drunk from them all. "I'm sorry Father." I repeated
"Dont give me that crap!" He shouted. That's when he hit me. Right on the side of the face. He kept hitting me. I wanted to cry. But I knew that if I cried and showed weakness, he would hit me more.
After about 10 minutes, he told me to go to my room and not come out till the next day I had school. So I gladly went up to my room on the top floor of the house located just beneath the the attic, and laid on my bed where nursed my bruises and scars. I put my headphones on and cried.
"Why me?" I cried.
