Waking up every morning is sometimes good and sometimes bad for me. Good because I could be dead but God decided to give me life. Then it's bad because my life sucks and every day for me is a bad day. The smell of pancakes and eggs in the morning always wakes me up. The taste of it would be even better if they were actually for me. I'm the alarm in the morning for my sisters. My foster mom is only concerned with her husband. She worships the ground he walks on and flinched every time he walked in the room. He had that effect on pretty much everyone but my oldest sister, Vanessa. My sisters and I are really close. We have no friends at school because we always keep to ourselves. Vanessa is the oldest, Nikki, Monica, then there's me, Mallory. Our mom died while going into labor with me. It gets kind of heartbreaking to look in the mirror every day and not see myself the way I should. Instead I see myself as someone who doesn't deserve life because she took someone else's. My sisters don't look at it that way though and that makes me feel a little better. Our dad ran off with another woman after mom had Nikki. The only person that actually considered him a father figure is Vanessa. He left when she was eight years old. The rest of us only knew our mom. Our foster parents are the devil's gift to saints. They didn't care about us at all. They were only in it for the money, nothing more. Since we had no ride to church, we had to wait on the church van to come. When they arrived, we grabbed our bibles and got on the van. Sitting closest to the door was Ms. Augustine. Ms. Augustine was the closest thing we had to a loving, caring parent or guardian. She and my mom were friends before she died. Mom didn't tell her to look after us but I guess she wanted to. I always get to sit beside her on the van because I was the youngest. The youngest always get the special treatment. That wasn't the case when she handed out candy though. Every time she would give me a piece of gum while my other sisters got a piece of peppermint or a butter scotch. When we arrived at the church Ms. Augustine gave us our usual delivery, the Life box, and we went on in. She gave it to Vanessa because she knew that one of us would probably peek to see what it was. Our favorite part of church was prayer. We loved talking to God and we always thought that Mom was there too. When she was alive, she loved to go to church and she loved to pray. So when it was time for prayer we always felt like she would show up.