Overlooked(part 1)

by Sophia Haddad


I didn't expect that one small accident to change my life forever.  Ruin? Possibly.  Improve? I don't know.  But it all started in the park. Just an ordinary park.  Except for the litter and unclean water that flowed in a river across the field.  I was sitting under a tree with my cat.  At this point in my life my family treasured me and I imagined it would stay that way forever.  How wrong was I.

My cat was a present, given to me by my loving brother who always looked out for me and viewed me as his responsibility to keep happy.  He took the job with pride. He often told me that it made him feel ackomplished having someone to look after.  I should have seen it coming.  He didn't take care of me because he loved me, he did it for his benefit. So that he could feel more grown up.  The rest of my family was the same.  Selfish.  All of them.

I was only five at the time and didn't understand the ins and outs of my family's feelings but it's obvious now that all they cared about were themselves.  I looked down at my cat and stroked her silky fur.   I always treasured her.  She was my favorite gift.  My family was unnaturally concerned though, that I keep the cat safe.  It didn't seem a problem to me, the cat was so special.

But the world fell apart as I watched helplessly as my cat ran away.  I knew she would come back so I didn't bother running after her.  That was my flaw.  She didn't come back.  So I searched and searched and had no luck.

As though the heartbreaking loss of my cat wasn't enough, my dad decided to pound me for it.  He told me I was irresponsible and I didn't deserve anymore privlages. To anger me even more, he added that he knew I was worthless right from the off.  Following my father's example, as the rest of my family always had, my mom and brother soon took against me as well.

I had to find someone I trusted. That turned out to be my mom.  She was the best of the worst.  She pretended to hate me while around the rest of my family to keep the family at ease, while really she kind of liked me.  She pitied me at least.  She would do small tasks to earn my appreciation such as sneaking me some food when I wasn't allowed or reading me stories to help me sleep. But it was really all so that she felt alright bullying me.  She never actually liked me.  Though she still, was the biggest one I felt for when the time came.  When karma evened out our justices.

<#>

I sat on the blood-stained carpet wondering why on earth they had just left me here. Then I remembered. I didn't want to be noticed. For mainly sentimental reasons I had hid, wanting more time in the place that had always served as my home. I was amazed that after the accident the building still stood tall, unharmed. Of course I knew it would. It's invincible.

My one safehaven consisted of a few blankets nailed into two opposite walls of my room. They were draped in a hammock-like fashion but big enough to conceal me from unwanted intruders.  The blankets weren't necessarily strong fabric, I just happened to be underfed and capable of not ripping them when I laid up there.  For years my canopy had served as a refuge to me, especially on nights of uncivilized fights.

The night my family died was like all others. I was alone in the canopy above my room. Strangely, either no one bothered to look or it was hidden enough, but I was never found up there. I could collect my thoughts before I got bored enough to face the horror that was my family. They hate me. Not for a specific reason. But they needed something to hate in their perfect lives.

They were eating another gourmet dinner without me. That's when all the pain, all the drunken hurt, all the reasons so vague came together. They all felt it, like a wave washing over them all. I was lucky to be hidden away, innocent enough not to feel all of it. But while my mom, dad, and brother were getting out of control, there was a disaster waiting to happen.

I walked in as the beer bottle hit the stove. I'm not sure who threw the bottle, or who randomly turned on the stove, but it started a fire.

Being the skinniest and least drunk, I had the common sense to run for the fire extinguisher. For better or for worse though, I was too late.

When I arrived at the dining room, they were dead. All of them. Every last ungrateful person in this house. I put out the flames to save myself and sunk back into my canopy.

I couldn't read the feelings I felt so I respectfully imagined them to combine into a simple sadness. I wish that was all it was. I wish I could feel sorry for the people at had shared living quarters with me for 13 years. But it was more complicated than that.

I suppose one of our neighbors saw the smoke and called a fire department. But when they came, I left no trace. It's not as though anyone had acknowledged my existence before so no one came looking. Our low-budget firemen did a short sweep removing the bodies but didn't bother being thorough so I was left unscathed.

But after all I've been through, I still sit, same as ever, forgotten, alone, and overlooked.