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Rated: 13+ · Draft · Action/Adventure · #1750019
The retrospect of a future history.
         "Congradulations! It's a baby girl!" The doctor said, handing a child to a glaring mother. "I don't want her! I DON'T WANT HER! Take her!" The mother yelled, thrusting the child away, while three males watched from outside the room. One of them was tall, the father. Another was curled up in his arms, small, and no older than a year. The other stood there, having just learned how to walk, and was tipped toed on a chair to peer over the window sill. Mommy was mad, and life was about to change, and that's all he could comprehend.

         About two years later, the children were outside in the back, the little girl having come home with them. Even for a two year old, she was short for her age. They were playing tag, making the girl it, but she could never catch them, and when she tripped, they called her names and laughed. She would just stare at them until one of them would kick her to get her up and she'd start crying, which caused more abuse. Today was a bad day. A man had come to the house, and 'offical' is what she'd heard him say. Daddy was upset. He yelled saying he hadn't wanted a third child. He said he didn't have to pay the damn taxes for something he didn't want. He had asked the man if he wanted a fight, and then was pinned to the floor. The man had left.

         "Dorthy!" an older boy called, and she turned to look at her older brother. "Ha, more like Dorky if you asked me! Look at how small she is! And have you seen her pretend to read those picture books?! Ha!" Her other brother replied, with a smirk on his young 5 year old face. Dorthy was going to be four soon, and they were still picking on her. "S-stop it!" She said, and was then smacked up side the head. "Don't ever tell me what to d-" The older brother said, but was cut off. "Dinner!" Mom had called, and they all scrambled inside, Dorthy being pushed to the back. She was served last, and got the least. Not that she needed more. Her stomach had shrunk to get used to the porpotions. She sat down at the table, and as she did this, she yelped out in pain. Something had stabbed into her behind. A thumb tack. They had been doing this for years, doing small, crule things to her, like putting gum in her hair and kicking her under the table while her parents weren't around. Her mom ignored the yelp, and started eating. Dad was glaring at her.

         'What did I ever do?' she thought. Then she realized. She had been born. She slowly picked up her fork, and began to eat, when she realized her brothers were staring at her, wicked grins on their dark faces. She put down the fork. "I'm done." She said, getting down from her chair.

         Her father glared at her, and picked her up, practically throwing her back into her chair. It tipped slightly from the small amount of weight that had hit the back. Again, another yelp that her mother ignored.

         "We have you, we pay for you, we feed you, and you WILL eat. Or maybe you'd like to live on the streets? Or maybe even BE dinner sometime? Hmm?" Her father threatened, and Dorthy's mother glared. "Stop it." she warned. He glared at her. "Kids, take your dinner to your room. Don't come out." He said in a hard tone. The kids did what they were told.

         "Dorky Dorthy, the girl who's to good to eat!" Her brother of 7 said. The younger one mimicked him, smiling proudly like he'd done something good. "If you don't want to eat, give it here!" He said, taking her plate. He scooped it all onto his own plate, leaving none for the younger brother.

         Even when 4, Dorthy had learned that only the strong survive.

         Dorthy, with her black hair and dark green eyes, stood there, hidden. She was watching daddy very close. He had brought out his smooth, glistening blade, to shave his scruffy, tinted, face. How could someone like him make something so.... Pretty? He brought the razor to his face, trying to shave off the scruff of the beared he had. One, two, three strokes and... "SHIT! OW!" He said, having a bubble of blood froming on the small gash. How could something so pretty make a monster like him, a god like him, bleed? She took a step closer, in awe. "Wow..." She gasped, and when her dad turned his head, she inched away as fast and as silently as she could, so she wouldn't get in trouble again. Then she ran outside, to go find something to make into such a pretty thing.

         It had SHINED. The first thing she had known to shine besides a mirror, or a rich persons car. She wanted it, longed for it, so bad that she just had to make one. Maybe a rock, or some sort of plastic...

         Her eyes rested on some broken glass from a bottle. Perfect.

         Sitting in the park, Dorthy started to sharpen the glass on a rock. She loved the look, and feel of the glass in her hand. The sharp, dangerous look, that made it so she might get hurt at any moment, excited her. The rhythmic motion calmed her, the sound coarsing at just the moment she planned.

         One.... Two.... One... Two... Second after second as she sharpened.

         "Hey, stupid, answer us!" Kids kept calling at Dorthy. She sat there, ignoring them, sharpening a new peice of glass. She was at school, and it was recess. She brought the glass up to look at the edge. It didn't sparkle or glint yet. She put it back down and started sharpening again.

         One... Two... One... Two....

         "We're going to go tell on you!" One of them warned, and when she ignored them, they went to go tell.

         "H-hi!" A little girl in a pink dress said. The dress looked as if it had been fashioned out of curtains. Still, it was one of the most gourgeous things she had seen.

         "You here to pick on me too?" Dorthy glared up at the beautiful girl. Her muscles tightened, her arm moving faster to sharpen the blade.

         One, two, one, two.

         "O-oh! No! Never!" The pink dress girl said. Then she gave a sheepish smile. "I'm Leeanne. Nice to meet you!" The girl, Leeanne, said. She put out her hand.

         Dorthy looked at it apprehensivly. Then she gingerly shook the small, clean hand. This girl was smaller than even her.

         "She's over here, Mrs. G!" A childs voice called. Her older brother, Jordan, stood next to the teacher they had brought.

         Leeanne snapped up the glass from Dorthy's hand, and hid it behind her back, looking sheepish and scared. Dorthy watched her quizingly.

         "Who was sharpening the glass?" Mrs.G ask, and saw Leeann holding it behind her back. "Come with me, young lady." She ordered, grabbing her arm. Leeann looked back at Dorthy, winked and threw the glass into her lap.

         "But you've got the wrong girl! It was her!" The kids tryed to tell Mrs.G, but she wouldn't listen, or didn't care.

         "Why...?" Dorthy asked, shrugged, and went back to her sharpening. Little did she know, that this friend would be choosing Dorthy's path in life for her.
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