My mother pulled my art work out of my book bag after I came home and she threw them away in the kitchen trash can. She said that I sucked in art and she didn’t want them in her house. She then told me to take that trash bag out to the outside totter and put the totter out to the curb for the trash pick up the next morning. Once I put the trash totter on the curb, I put the bag with my artwork on the top of all the other trash. I went inside and went to bed that night. I kept thinking about my artwork and I woke up very early the next morning. I went up the stairs from the basement and went out the back door. I ran up the driveway and opened the totter. I ripped open the trash bag and got my artwork out of the trash. Then when I closed the lid, I saw the dining room light was on and my father was awake getting ready for work. I went in front of the totter so my father couldn’t see me and I watch my father went from the kitchen to the bathroom. I ran down the driveway and quietly opened the back door and ran downstairs to the basement where my sister and I shared a bedroom.
I put my artwork on the self by my bed and I fell back asleep. Then later that morning, I woke up and got ready for school and went to school. When I was home from school that day, my mother called me downstairs in the basement where the wood stove was. I ran downstairs and said yes mom. She had my artwork in her hand and said, “I thought I threw these away last night, why were they in your room?” I stayed quiet and my mother opened the woodstove. I knew what she was going to do and I begged her to please don’t burn my artwork and she said she didn’t care about my artwork and she threw them into the fire. She forced me to watch them burn and I was crying while I was watching. My mother then hit me and told me to stop crying about this bullshit.