Zombie Girl

Bed Head

Y/N's POV-

Waking up has never been easy for me... no matter the situation. On special occasions I would be forced out of bed at around seven in the morning, making me all the more grumpy than I usually am. Christmas has come around to be my least favorite holiday, reason being, each time Christmas comes, I'm woken up by my little brother to open the very few presents our cousins leave us.

Our father never got presents, nor did he get us anything. He would yell, punish, or hurt... but never do anything positive for us two. We live alone in a one story tiny house... our mother died a few years ago, resulting in my dads' drinking, alcohol, and abuse problem. After the first year of our mothers' death, my brother and I became used to our father and how he would treat us... not that we were okay with it that is.

Knowing that I would get yelled at if I was late to school once again, I drag my drained body out of bed. The two hours of sleep I've been getting did no help towards my morning routine or my appearance. I looked into my mirror, noticing the evident bags under my eyes and hair strands that flew out of place. I looked like a zombie, every morning I did... thus giving my dad the idea to make that my nickname, not that I minded compared to the other harsh words he'd throw at me daily.

Slowly, I reached for the brush that lay atop of my dresser, and begin at the mess of hair I had. Shortly after finishing with my hair, I trudged to my closet and took out a pair of baggy jeans, a black crop top and a flannel. My style was one of the only things I actually liked about myself... and the only thing I wasn't insecure about. With that, I threw on my Converse, put on mascara and eyeliner, then out my bedroom door I went.

"I'm leaving for work...  I'll be coming home late", my dad said as his dirty hand rests upon the doorknob, ready to leave as soon as he heard my response.

"K."

Within seconds, he was out the door and into his car to leave for his sucky job. He is a gambling dealer, but is about two more drinks away from getting fired. His job did us no good for our life style, for he got payed like shit and couldn't give two fucks. "If I have enough money for a pack of smokes and beer, then thats all I need", he would say.

The kids at my school had no clue about my home life... in fact, all of them think I'm a girl with the perfect family living in a perfect home. I had many friends, yet many enemies as well. I understand why people don't like me, same reason I hate myself. I don't care about anyone, I don't have feelings towards anyone, and I could care less about how people feel. This mindset of mine gave me the preset of being known as the schools' popular girl that couldn't give two shits about people that are lower than her. Which isn't true by the way, the truth is that I couldn't give two shits about anyone, but people assume that I only don't like the non popular people since I'm part of the 'popular' crowd.

"I'm leaving Andy... make sure you tell Petra that you're lunch is in the fridge!" I yell to my younger brother, one foot out the door ready to head to my car.

Petra was Andy's baby sitter/second mom. She's said more words to Andy than my dad has said to the both of us combined. She's the sweetest person I've ever encountered, and I still don't understand how she can have so much love in her heart.

I push my thoughts away as I head into the driver's seat of my car. The car I drove was a bit roughed up since we couldn't afford a better one, but I dealt with it.

Pulling into school, I park in the back so nobody could see what I was driving. I did it every time I came here, and many questions were asked, such as "How do you walk to school in the cold?" or "Do you seriously not have your driver's license yet we're in our junior year?" I would only respond with a simple shrug or a smirk, leaving people even more confused.