PROFILER: MARY AJAYI
WHEN WILL DEATH COME?
Five years ago my father tore me open, and every night since then, he continues to open me up. I am thirteen, an only child. My mother is dead; I have no friends and no relatives that I am allowed to see. This is the life I have been given and I’ve grown into it. I will not avenge myself. I do not know how to, nobody cares anyway, even me. I stopped caring sometime along the way. It’s a fucked up life, but I live it. Hope is something strange, joy…I have no memories of it. I do not make wishes, I do not pray. I simply float. When will I stop living anyway? Tonight when he comes again?
