Marilyn , the name was haunting , It was bruising. My father named me Marilyn , He wasn't a father to me . To me , He was monster . I didn't shed tears because my folks gave up on me , I didn't cry because leaving that house was a freedom . Even if I was trapped in another one . But leaving that ground made me feel happy .
'You have no right to eat today , You shall work till dusk until you starve ' He said , pulling away the book from my hands and pushing me out the doors of the house .
'You know what to so , I want the yard clean , not one spec of dust . I was all the wood sticks to be collected in the shed , You will not enter my house unless I am satisfies with your work . '
I grabbed the sticks from the ground , tossing them in the shed . Dusting all the leaves however it was all i
