I felt cold. The sun barely shown light from the broken window in my attic bedroom. I basically slept on a cardboard mattress with worn out covers that were so short, that could only cover everything from my angles to shoulder. The cover was super thin like a sheet, basically an expert at making sure my goosebumps on my skin would stay visible and bring more cold to make my chattering teeth.
I forced my eyes to close the night before. Not even bothering to brush my teeth and hair.
My name is Cathryn
My hair was a golden blonde color with brown highlights with pretty mixture colored eyes to match.
When I mean mixture color, I mean my eyes had a touch of every color.
In my eyes are green, brown, blue, and mostly grey.
I was said once that I had my mothers eyes.
That sentence always brought tears to the corners of my depressed eyes.
I have been told that my mom and dad died in a car crash, and it was said that it was my fault that they died because my mom could have lived if she hadn't pushed me out of the way and taken the blow of the air bag in front of me which suffocated her.
It was strange because I remembered through blurry vision a lot of green lights, especially one coming my way, but the light strangely just bounced off of me like a mirror.
The car crash incident was strange since I only got one scar, which is on the left side of my forehead. It was in the shape of a lightening bolt, clearly visible to the naked eye, but I can usually hide it with my side long bangs.
My first words I think were Daddy or mommy, which was a scary time because it was the last word that my mom has ever heard, the same for my dad.
I try my best not to cry about it, and it usually works.
I've only cried once in my life and that was see my mom looking at me straight in the eye right before she died and whispered words that were so calming and gentle that could terrify someone because of her soon to be death start.
I let a tear go down my cheek with another following suite from my other eye.
"You are strong Kitty Cat, if you can master this, you can master him. He will come, and you will be ready. Remember to be strong, remember to be brave. Do not fear his name, do not fear him, because you have more kindness, bravery, and strength in your pinky than he does in his whole body. I love you kitty cat, and remember, be strong, be brave, be yourself!"
And with that she dropped dead, leaving me with tears in my eyes and as pale as a sheet of paper.
I also think I saw another body fall from there seat.
A woman with auburn red hair and green eyes. There was also another baby. He was bald at the time, but he had green emerald eyes just like his mother. He got the same scar I got, only it was on the right side of his forehead.
"Mommy! Daddy!" Those were my last words until I became silent.
Well, that's one of the reasons why I became silent. My adopted parents would always beat me and saw they hated my crappy voice, and then hit me on the side of the head with an empty beer bottle, leaving shattered glass stuck in my arms and legs, and that was in when they were in a good mood!
On a bad day, my adopted father would take his belt and wack my back with it and right before he would wack me, he would say something he hated about me, and then wack me three times as fast as a snake would strike its living prey.
They were usually insults of my mother and father and how they died. I knew my uncle wanted to hear me cry. He loved the sound of a little child screaming wailing, but I promised myself and mom that I would not show them satisfactory for their actions.
Usually after thirteen wacks, he would give up and make me do chores.
I don't mean little chores like mowing the lawn or washing dishes.
No, chores, was just a nice word for maid.
I dont complain though, cause basically if you groan or sigh, it's just an invitation to give you five more wacks on the back for 'miss behavior'
I usually had two hours to clean the old beat down small hovel.
I usually did a good job, but every morning the house would look like I did none the sort.
I basically starve to death at this place. I once didn't eat for two whole days. I was able to smother a few piece of pepperoni, but was caught by my adopted mother.
Let's just say, she's more scary then my adopted dad.
"What the devil do you think you are doing slave!"
She was obviously drunk cause she was swaying back and forth.
I was truly terrified.
She then snatched the three pepperoni bits from my hand and threw them into her mouth, chomping loudly.
My stomach growled loudly and she swallowed and cocked her head to the side and said in a winy baby voice.
"Oh! Is the whittle baby hungwy? Well too bad!" She then slapped me hard against the face hard, leaving my cheek printed and burning like fire.
She cackled and punched me hard in the stomach, making me fall down and groaning.
"This will teach from stealing food again!"
My adopted mother took a knife from the wall and slowly walked towards me.
I was terrified at what she would do to me.
She took my arm and stabbed it multiple times.
She made me get on my back and started writing words into my back. Harsh words.
It felt painful. With every line carved in my back, it felt like a thousand fires burning my flesh.
The marks were thankfully not deep and did not leave scars, but we're still terrifying.
When she was done, my back looked like a little kids coloring book.
The lines of red were everywhere.
It was a little hard to breath, but I hung in there.
Mom's last words still repeating in my head.
I would not let her down, not now.
My adopted mother got in my face.
I guess people were right!
She really does have a face that looks like a toad!

A/N SO IM GUESSING YOU GUYS ALREADY FIGURED OUT WHO HER ADOPTED MOTHER IS BY NOW!!! WELL, IF YOUR A POTTER HEAD LIKE ME YOU'D KNOW!!!!!!!! HOPE YA GUYS LIKE THE FIRST CHAPTER!!!!
GOOD NIGHT MY SISTAS AND MISTAS!!!!!
- STAR