Author's Note: Alright, so here's my new story. I don't know if I like it too much or not. I'll let you be the judge of that.
Mother had always told me that the day I was born, there was a storm in more than one way. Thunder roared and lightning illuminated the midwife's wrinkled old face as she told my mother to push. My father had been out gambling again and could not care less about his wife or the fate of his child. The wind shook the house and the rain threatened entry as I came into the world, my crying dwarfed by the severity of the storm. The midwife wrapped me and set me in the arms of my mother, who gave me a tired gaze and suddenly recoiled.
"It's a girl," she cried out in disbelief.
The midwife was busy cleaning up after the ordeal and paid no attention to mother's reaction at the sight of me.
"And so ugly…" mother cried in disdain. "It looks like him," she said sourly, making a face. Mother had been sold into marriage by her parents and hated her husband.
"It is alive at least," the midwife remarked, "as are ye. Be grateful for that."
Mother had thrown her head back and laughed, making the old woman start. "Alive?! Is that what I am?" she asked before laughing again.
The door opened and my father stood there, lightning flashing behind him. Both women screamed until he entered the room. He stopped by my mother's side.
Mother told me she could smell alcohol on his breath and knew he had been gambling away his money. She said that when he looked down at me, he wrinkled his nose in disgust and walked away.
"Kill it. It is of no use to me, as are you."
The midwife admonished his behavior once he was out of the room, but mother continued to stare at me. When the midwife had stopped talking, tear drops landed on my forehead. Mother let out a cry of anguish before hitting me. My wails were soon joining her scream. The midwife held her back and shouted at her in disdain while a maid of mother's came into the room and took me away.
Mother told me that the urge to kill me had been so strong then and even now. It scared me, knowing what she thought of me and what kind of memories she held of me. If only I had been born a boy and wasn't so ugly, maybe then mother would love me…