I would have chosen the black pen. I would have drawn a huge monster with big teeth and big claws. And I would have taken the red pen to draw a broken heart right in the monsters chest.
Because I believed I was a monster! Why else would anyone treat me as they did? If I wasn't so awful and ugly why would people tell me I was all the time?
My world as an eight year old was believing that I deserved everything that happened because I had stolen my mother's husband, I caused her to feel lonely and unloved. She was angry with me all the time and as an eight year old I thought I deserved her anger and her punishment.

But of course, these were lies, cruel and awful lies. But I only found out that they were lies much later when I found out how to emotionally separate myself from the people who hurt me so badly.

But I think, somewhere on the picture would probably also be a a yellow sun with a smiling face. Perhaps small, somewhere in the corner.

Much love,
Amelia