Carol Pike
January 24, 2012
Dear Diary
Some people might have not opened
my case because I was killed and know one knows. 1972 im a 12-year-old girl and
I live on the street of Harlem, New York. My mothers a hard heroin user and my
father… well I don’t know who he is. My mother had me at 14 years old. My
father rapped her and she didn’t even know him. Well neither do I. And to be
perfectly honest with you I can care less. But she later found out when I was
about 2 ½ he was a full blown murder and he got shot to death in an alley in
the Bronx’s by a group of gang members, after he rapped and killed the sister
of Barry Marrow. The same drug dealer who sells my mom her stuff. But be before
I died I was minding my own business and being a kid just watching TV. Mom
wasn’t there because she never was she was probably out doing what she does
best. I got bored and decided to go looking around the house for what? God only
knows what… well I just so happened to find my Great Great Grandmothers diary
that was hidden in a red box in my mother’s nightstand in her room. I
discovered she killed all of her 5 husbands and that my mother wasn’t her real
daughter. She didn’t know how to tell my mom so I guess my mother found out
through the dairy. My mom came home when was on her bedroom floor reading it.
She looked at and with watery eyes and I looked back at her stunned. She
snatched it up. Then she slapped me, picked me up by my arm and threw me out
the house. “And stay out”. She opened the door again. “Don’t you ever come
back, I don’t want you and I never did”. My mother never cared about me since
the day I was born. I’ve had to raise my self. I’ve taught myself everything I
know. I have no family there all dead, and I have no siblings. My mother loves
her drugs, and she never loved me. I was struggling yeah I was but I stayed
strong all my life through my mothers ups and downs in and outs. I just wish I
didn’t read that old stupid diary… but why not my mother as trying ot get rid
of me since the day I was born. The day she brang me home she left me out =side
the hospital door hoping no one would notice. But the cab driver said ma’am
aren’t you forgetting something”. He pointed to me in the yellow car seat and
she picked me up roughly, put her self and me in the car and we drove off. Mr.
Tim yeah he’s the cab driver I know him. He moved in across the street from me.
He had a daughter Emma and we use to play all the time. I wanted to show her my
baby pictures, the only ones from the hospital I had and Mr. Tim noticed who I
was, the name and all. I just really regret reading that dairy. The night my
mother through me out on the streets Patrick Smizzer a 45 year old man rapped
me strangled me and threw my body over the Brooklyn bridge. Now I can’t play
with Emma. Ill jus have to wait till she makes it to heaven if she does.
