Burned Alive

Something in me is broken but people don't realize it because I always smile to hide it.

Although I am able to walk about freely, I am a prisoner in my skin.

Sometimes laying in my bed, I would think that I should have died because I deserved to.

The only way to help me stop suffering was to help me die.

But for a mother who was submissive to the degree my mother was, it was OK to kill girls. For a father like mine, it was normal to chop off his daughters hair with sheep shears, and to beat her with a belt or a cane or tie her up in the stable all night with the cows.

You're just an object locked up in the house.

I was thirsty, as much as for water as for dying.