TeddyGirl-Ana

If there is one name I remember well from my days in the village, it is the one the boys gave me. Doormat. "Ha, ha! Look at the doormat, the slave to the demon trash!" they would taunt as I passed them by while on my way to the market. I'm not a doormat though, and that name those boys unfairly gave me, had always bothered me. A doormat is something you walk on; I am not something to be walked on, to be stepped on and pushed down. That is not me. I may be passive; I don't start fights, I don't fight every little thing I disagree with. I may be compliant; I don't ask more questions than necessary, and I follow orders given to me. I am not a do