The Girl in the Window: Who is She?

The Girl in the Window: Who is She?

   Today had been a frigid, rainy afternoon. I gazed uncomfortably on the window sill; the children my age, who had been playing in the drizzling shower, had giggled and smiled as they leaped in damp, calm puddles.

Chapter 1: The girl in the window

   I looked aside to see the oracle (my stuffed animal); that was a mixed breed of creature.  


Soon, I turned back to see the children and felt sorrow and regret. 

I would adore going outdoors, but my stepmother would not allow me. 

For at least two reasons: She hated me and would preferably take care of her lovely daughters: Darla and Sora. 

So she could pretend that I never existed in her life.

While my diagnosis Vitiligo: (vi·tuh·lie·gow): a lack of pigments called melanin that makes your hair, or (in my case), makes my skin gradually become white. 

So, she thinks I’m an ugly child, and her daughter is “Miss Colorado.“ I said, rolling my eyes.


It all began; when I was three years old: my skin had gradually evolved whiter, like a coat of fresh paint. 

On December 12 (my birthday), we were ready to celebrate.

I had switched to my favorite dress; that dad gave me. 

Soon, I was “princess ready,“ glancing at my mirror to notice my face was white. Somehow? 

I began to cry and holler, causing my dad to run to my room. Shortly after, he witnessed my face. 

He expressed; that it had been just frostbite on my face. 

But I could not accept that, so; he brought me to the doctor to check. 

But he realized that he was mistaken. I had a syndrome called Vitiligo.


I suddenly heard footsteps reaching close to where I had been. 

I took a step forward and quickly took a book, pretending to be reading: “How to win friends and influence people” by Dale Carnegie.

 It is a reliable book to read for “the real world.” 

The door abruptly opened, and my stepmom stood in a light coffee-colored sweater and a black skirt.

“Lisy,” She said sternly.

“Yes, ma’am,” I say, standing up and giving her eye contact.

“While I’m gone, do not break anything and no messes; I do not rather have any time to clean them up. Is that clear!” She says rigidly. 

“Yes, ma´am,” I said. 

“And since your sisters aren’t here, don’t do any funny business!”

“Yes, I won’t,” I said.

“Good, foods in the fridge.” She says, closing the door; shut. 

Chapter 2: the day of change


   I rolled my eyes,” Ya, whatever,” I said, walking to my room. 

My favorite things in the world; are pens, pencils, a paper book, and my music. 

So I hid them under one of my hardwood floors.

But no one knows where it is; (I changed it for a week). Ever since my stepsisters knew, I was hiding it.

But they are too dumb to know where it’s hidden.

So I don’t have to worry about it too much.

I am hiding it since my stepmother hates everything I like. So, I usually keep things hidden from her. 

Listening to songs and writing books are my favorite pastimes of staying home.

Chapter 3:

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