I stayed for days in the streets, begging for food, water, and money. It's not like luck would find me anyway....I felt betrayed by that one person who has taken care of me since I was found in that garbage can. I felt like throwing my life away at that point. Life wasn't worth living knowing there were people who turned on you.

The streets of Guadalajara were busy and bustling, but I was too upset to care. I went for days starving, thirsty, and broke. But sure, I received very little amounts of food and money, just like an ordinary beggar would have. I smelled putrid, similar to the musty stench that coated my form as an infant back in the summer of 1998. I slept on the sidewalk, waiting for a higher power to fetch my soul, never to be spotted alive again on the ends of this Earth.

I waited and waited for someone to approach me on one hot day. Until I was met with a miraculous event in my life.

"Oh?" a strange man muttered to himself.

"What's your name?"

"J-Julia....."

"Very well then, Julia....What are you doing in a street that seems to be dangerous?"

"The orphanage I've been living in has closed down....I have no family, no home."

"I see. Come with me. I am a single father with two children. I'll give you a safe, secure home and good food."

It's not like I had any other choice. I had no food, no water, no family, and no shelter to run off to. I was only five to six years of age. All I wanted was to escape Nurse Hellen and her false acts of kindness. I rode the man's car, the orange-scented air freshener overwhelming my nostrils. Was this all a dream? I wondered. I pinched my wrists and closed my eyes as I dissociated....trying to decipher if I were to wake up from a nightmare. However, pinching my wrists hurt. This was it. Everything was indeed real. I was going to have a stable life at last. I couldn't help but be thankful to the man who has offered me a place to stay. They say kids shouldn't talk to strangers, but this stranger was indeed trustworthy as I was greeted with two children at his door.

"Knock knock."

One boy gasped.

"Who is this pathetic little excuse of a child?!"

"This is your new sister, Julia. I hope you two shall welcome her with great joy and care."

"But dad! We don't want a new sibling!!! You do realize this was the reason mom abandoned us, right? She doesn't want kids!!"

"Antonio, we're divorced. And besides, I run this house's rules. You shall treat Julia as your youngest sister. That rule applies for as long as we live."

"Huh, is that so?"

"Yes. Whatever I say goes. End of story."

I could barely believe my own fate. I was adopted. Cared for, even. The man started paying attention to me, gave me a place to stay, and introduced me to siblings I could get along with. Unfortunately, they didn't accept me. I felt resentful once again. Things didn't go my way. I flipped and cried internally. Yet I was pulled back into the man's arms for comfort. 

His name is Rodrigo Hernandez.

I didn't have a family name, so I adopted his surname. He finally became my adoptive father, and interrogated me as to where I came from. I told him that I originated from an orphanage known as Hospicio De Guadalajara, which has long shut down due to a lack of funding. Everyone was being put up for adoption, and I ran due to being upset with what a dear person (in this case, it was Nurse Hellen) had said about me. My adoptive father then sympathized with me—a rare thing I've experienced, really. I began to develop a sense of empathy due to my scarred past and an appreciation for my newfound family. Of course, my trauma was still there, though. I always anticipated that people would betray me as Nurse Hellen did. 

But he didn't. I grew up to be 15 years of age where everything went according to what a normal family did. I wasn't thrown out of the house, I wasn't abused. Well, maybe I was abused, but my father always held my siblings accountable for their actions. I'll delve deep into that subject later. 

I was his favorite daughter. Society would say I was never a legitimate child, but he was always there for me. I was truly lucky as I never landed in the hands of a dangerous stranger who'd assault, kidnap, or murder me in the cold, hasty streets. He gave me delicious meals, warm baths, comfy clothes, and the most important of all, he gave me unconditional love. He even accepted the fact that I liked and dated girls, which wasn't a universally accepted activity amongst certain sectors of Mexico at that time. He even tried contacting the nurses of the past orphanage for my birth certificate. 

My adoptive father was the only person in the world whom I genuinely loved the most. At some point in time, I did feel some love for Nurse Hellen, but that disappeared a long time ago. The reason why I remember her to this very day is because my "birthday" on the certificate matched the day she found me abandoned as a baby. Of course, I can't help but harbor a grudge against her. The way she wanted to expel me from the orphanage as a child due to my unwanted behavior did sting my ego. Alright, I admit it. It was my fault. But I couldn't help my own actions.....I was just a kid.

My father was the only person who understood me. He was able to handle my tantrums, outbursts, and mannerisms with great ease. He was a fun dad. Sure, I had no mother, but nevertheless, we were a happy family.

Then Antonio and Elena had to interfere with our relationship.

"Think you're hot stuff now that dad has given you lots of love, huh?"

"Yeah, he's definitely out of his mind! Walking you around like some stupid doe-eyed creature who knows nothing of the world...."

"Hey! Say something, you little brat!"

"Whatcha gonna do, tell daddy?"

My siblings were never kind to me. I was often beaten up for things I didn't do. Often went through trouble dealing with their antics. Antonio would pull pranks on me, while Elena would so often scold me for forgetting to do certain chores. Overall, it was really an unpleasant experience. But then, I realized that....perhaps if I were to psychologically abuse them back like I did towards Eva......maybe they would stop.

"No. If I were you, I would simply just kill myself. ", I replied.

"What are you saying?!"

"Remember the time he picked me up? Yeah....He obviously discarded your feelings, telling you someone new has arrived. He no longer paid attention to you. Badmouthed the both of you. Yet you still crave for his love? You two are jealous and desperate excuses for human beings."

"You bastard!"

Antonio tried to hit me. But I successfully dodged it. 

"Hitting me would get you nowhere, Antonio. I'm just telling the truth. Like I said a while ago....Craving for that attention you will never receive will just result in slowly killing yourself emotionally. I'd suggest you just let things go and make way for the person who's truly meant to be accepted."

"Dad should have left you in the streets to rot. We were robbed off of a father because of you. If dad ever heard of what you've been saying to us right now, he would give you a nice beating."

"We'll see about that.", I replied.

Things worked very well in my favor. I was often seen as a cute and innocent child without a darker side. My father trusted me, as I trusted him. He would never ever treat me like shit. Whenever I did something wrong, he would correct me diplomatically, unlike the way he harshly treated his legitimate children. I could only watch as the two children got beaten before my eyes, but I feigned ignorance the whole time, because I loved him. 

It was like I was in a state of schadenfreude. I would never destroy a person physically like he did, though. But spiritually, mentally, and emotionally? I would throw in some pain. I would go all out. It was something I have grown accustomed to, for now. And although I do feel some guilt for what I did the past years, I only threw in some pain without remorse when someone threatens my ego.

And that was it. He got home. He saw two of them crying, saying I was at fault. He didn't believe them. He just scoffed at them, saying it was their fault for messing with me. And he was right. They were messing with me. They got what they had coming though. I was satisfied. Satisfied enough for me to remember that memory to this day.

I promised myself to have stopped enjoying bullying, but that mindset of mine returned. Whenever father wasn't around, I never failed to utilize the power of comebacks whenever my siblings threw in some really nasty insults. Over time, I felt desensitized. I was used to being told that I should have been aborted and all that. And if I were to be honest, maybe I did deserve all the pain they have inflicted upon me since I moved in with my father. What if I never was a good person? Am I a good person to you? Or just flat out morally ambiguous?

Perhaps I am just a villain in your story like I was in Eva's. But before you flame me, I would like to let you know that I do feel conditional guilt. What does this mean? Well, that is to say that I only feel guilt for the hurt I've caused when that person was innocent and has never hurt me back. I hurt people by accident, too. Though, I never really intended to hurt them. I guess these are traits I had to change—being tactless and psychologically abusive. But I can't change, knowing I had to live with my two siblings who often challenged me to an insult festival.

As a result, my father had to intervene with us each time, and it was always I who gained his sympathy. The two children seemed to have been in bad blood with him....picking constant fights. Even the tiniest mistakes they happened to make did not go unnoticed. I wanted to help, but couldn't at the same time, for I also loathed them with the entirety of my being. They didn't accept me, and I had to live with that. They were vile, cruel, even to the point of having to steal my lunch money on the way to high school. 

Unlike them, I was pretty much the outgoing type. Yes, you may think I'm some stereotypical jock who happens to cause a lot of trouble. The thing is, you're pretty much right. Going to school served as an escape as I met lots of new friends. We went on lunches together, cut classes together, and smoked weed. I even had my first love at 15, but I'll talk about that in a later chapter. That is to say, I enjoyed my time as a youth. I was never an outcast. I've always felt like I belonged back in high school, a time which I could never forget.

Anyhow, I shall discuss more of this in the next chapter. There's not much time, and I have yet to get a good night's sleep. 

Goodnight, and I hope to see you in the next chapter of my story.