Narrative Essay: "Being Ignored"

I have a younger brother. When he was born I was six years old. When my mom was pregnant I didn’t know about it, and just thought that she gained some extra weight. When she brought home my baby brother I wanted to play with him so much that it was all I could think about.
“I want to play with him!” I screamed.
“But you can’t He is not a toy,” mom calmly replied.

I wanted to play with my little brother so much, but my mom wouldn’t let me. I was on the verge of crying and tasted biter tears on my lips. Holding back tears was as hard as looking someone in the eye when you lied. I had waited for that day for such a long time. “How could she not let me play with him?” There I was in my small room again, alone as always. I was so tired of it; not only did my parents not let me play with him, but they even stopped playing with me.

I was so mad at my parents; my fingers clenched into fists. “How could they just bring my brother home, and not let me play with him. They just forget about me.” I asked myself. That was it. I was too tired of them ignoring me. I got under the table in my room, and sat there for what felt like hours. I just sat there, my hands were shaking, my eyes were on the verge of crying, and my whole body was shivering at the thought of being ignored.

“Mariya,” I heard my grandma call. That snapped me out of my thoughts, but at that moment I didn’t care about anyone. I didn’t move. “Mariya,” someone kept calling. It was unbelievable that anyone still remembered my existence. I hoped no one saw where I went after they told me to leave Steven alone. “I hope that they wouldn’t be able to find me.” I whispered to myself. After a while I started hearing many voices calling “Mariya”. Some sounded trembling, and some ready to tear me apart.

The place I chose wasn’t good enough because they found me within a few minutes.
“Why did you hide under the table?” my mom asked in a trembling voice, her beautiful blue eyes were filled with tears. “We were worried.”
“We’ve been looking for you for a long time,” my dad said sharply, in his low voice.

I just stood there, not talking to anybody, not looking at anybody. How could they not see why I did it? Were they blind? My stomach started turning, my palms were sweating. Sweat was dripping from my forehead like water during a rainstorm. I was ready to tell them why I did it, and why I was so mad, but the most annoying cry in the world, sliced through my ears. Everyone turned around and left, I was left behind again. I turned around, and went to the sunroom. I just sat down on the floor, got out my book of folktales. It seemed like the book was pounding in my hands, but I started reading anyway. “It would take them ages to find me here.” I thought to myself, and was satisfied with my choice of a place to get away from my family.