"Welcome to memory lane," a young girl says as she opens a gate to a brightly colored brick road. I nod at her, and she smiles back, ushering me along. She presses a few buttons and the glass wall turns into stone, blocking my way out. No turning back. I step forward.

"Daddy catch me!" I scream as I slide down a small slide.

"Ok princess," My father responds as slide into his arms.

I smile as see the small memory.

"I want a brother." Three year old me demands.

"Why Emma?" My mom asks as she looks through a magazine.

"I just want one. I want to be a big sister." I say matter of factly, like it's so obvious.

"Well, you might get your wish." My dad responds, looking at my mom.

I didn't get it then.

I smile and walk over to the younger me. Her curly blonde hair and heart shaped lips and freckles make her look like a little angel. How long did that last?

Not long apparently. I wasn't a golden child for long. For the gold bricks started to fade beneath my feet and the colored sky turned grey.

"I love-" I get cut off as my brother bites my nose. "OW!"

I shiver.

"Where's mommy?" I ask.

"She's at the hospital having your brother." My great aunt tells me.

"I wanted a sister. I wanted a sister Kathryn." I grumble. "I guess a brother is ok."

The road is blank for a while afterwards. Like I'm intentionally blocking out elementary school. There's a few memories made with my best friend, good ones too, but when I reach junior high everything goes down hill. Quite literally. My mom's heart surgery. My anxiety.

"I can't read it. Why can't I read it?" My brother screams.

Just read. Just read.

"You are such an ungrateful person!" My mom screams at me from her bed.

Just read. Just read.

"You're a pig!" My other brother spits at me while throwing punches.

Just read. Just read.

"I'm gonna kill you!" My middle brother threatens while holding a kitchen knife in his hand and I grab my youngest brother and lock us in a bathroom.

How did it get to this point?

I see all the surgeries for my mom and all the drinking for my dad. Ninth grade. Oh no. Let me out let me-

"I can't read it. I can't read it." I whisper to myself as the words curl off the page and disappear. My head is on fire and I stifle a cry. I'm fine. The lunch bell rings and I go down the stairs to the cafeteria. I can barely breathe. Then it hits me. I run for my counselor. School is suffocating me. I'm sobbing and on fire. The walls are too close, and my legs are numb. Falling to my knees.

I had to leave school that day. And now I take each day at a time. As I leave memory lane I feel as if I'm on fire, but it's a good fire. Maybe someday I'll go back.

Entry for WordBandit