Sometimes I babysit. I look after the neighbour's baby. The neighbours are old but have a little boy. His name is Edwin. They are happy with him but every now and then they go away. I don't know why my mother lets me banish but I am happy about it. The neighbour is nice and it is quiet in the house. I take a book with me but she says I can also watch TV. I don't do that, I like to read. The baby is quiet, he's not one of those crying, sick babies but I always check twice if he is still sleeping. Sometimes I give him a clean nappy. He has a sweet face and very white hair and skin just like auntie and my new uncle. Auntie is married now. I haven't written anything about it, but it was a big party.
I had to wear that horrible vest that Grandma had knitted. The sleeves are far too tight and it always made me itch. My mouth hurt and my long skirt was uncomfortable too. I think I was making a fool of myself even though Auntie didn't say anything about it. My mother had chosen the clothes.
When we had all returned from church to Grandmother's house, a bus came that looked like a boat. It took us to a hotel with a restaurant on a hill. Auntie looked happy and she got a lot of presents. Now she doesn't have to listen to my mother's whining that she is single and can do anything and my mother is stuck with us. Daddy never says anything when she starts talking about this. He pretends not to hear her until she starts screaming or yelling and waving a knife, throwing things or taking a chair or stool and hitting you on the head or back.
Auntie is also happy with Dad but nobody really says anything to me except a waiter. I felt unhappy at the party there are no real children and the big people don't look at me. Because I was bored and tired I just started walking around. Nobody missed me.
My mother would rather be without me, so maybe she likes me to babysit?
There is a thunderstorm. I hear the thunder and see the flashes of lightning through the curtain. I am not afraid of thunder even though the wind once blew the roof off the garage in our garden. Another time, the wind tore the door from my hand and broke the window. The glass splinters stuck in my foot. Dad pulled them out later. We did not go to the doctor and my mother sent me outside even though my foot was bleeding. Now there is a dent where the shard of glass was. It doesn't hurt, so Dad must have picked everything out with his long tweezers. Those tweezers are in the same wooden box he keeps his knives in. With those girls, he cuts open the dead fish floating in the aquarium right in the middle of their bellies.
No one looks after me.
Dad is away more and more frequently and my mother works or sleeps, at least when she is not starting a fight. She usually fights when she is at home. Unfortunately, that's often when I don't have school or I've just left school. Why does she get hoarse when she yells so much? When I have to talk a lot I always lose my voice, just like when I went to summer camp with gymnastics for a week. I didn't say as much as other children and I didn't shout, but my voice was gone. How is that possible? Even though I have no voice my mother still wants me to answer and I have to repeat everything she says. That way she knows for sure that I have heard her. Not that it helps, because I hate hearing her voice all the time. That voice hurts my ears and my head.
The neighbour doesn't have a nasty voice and he doesn't really talk to me. He just nods friendly and says hello.
I have also helped the neighbour to bake her bread once. That was fun. She doesn't look like my mother but also not like grandmother. Grandmother may be almost as old but she pretends to be very old and sits on a chair and knits. She knits for me and others but never for herself. It is the same when she bakes something. Cake, apple pie or butter cake grandmother hardly ever eats. Maybe she doesn't like it any more because she has been baking it all her life?
The neighbour couldn't really bake but now she can. Her buns were delicious and she was happy. As happy as auntie was on her wedding day and as happy as she was to have a baby after all. That baby was a miracle, she told me. My parents don't think I'm a miracle, not special and not important. My mother says she wished I had never been born. I wish that too, because it's not nice to have my mother as a mother. She is scary, mean and lies a lot. She likes it when other people are hurt and sad. I can see it in her face. She also likes it when people ask her if she can please...
I don't beg anymore and I don't want to say sorry if I'm not sorry. It is not my fault that I was born, my parents did it. I can't help it if grandmother doesn't like me. I think she doesn't like black and she is still angry with dad and my mum just as much as she is angry with me and granddad even though granddad is dead.
See 
Prompt: sick babies
