I Don't Eat CupCakes (wattys2015)

Chapter Thirteen

Dedicated to lefabAndrea she is me besty who's writing is fabulous. Especially the ones with the feels.
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When I woke up it felt like I was hit by a car. I was sore everywhere minus my feet and one leg. Adam didn't kick me or punch me there but I did fall pretty hard and I'm pretty sure there's a bruise there to prove it. I bet there are bruises everywhere.

I open my eyes and the sun strikes my face from the window. I know I left the curtains closed but there was just a small crack enough to let the sun in.

When I sat up on my bed I groaned. I'm not a morning person, and adding the beating I took from Adam is making my morning worse. Before I get up I listen for the sound of my mother and I don't hear a sound. She's probably at work already.

I make my way to the bathroom and inspect my face. I look fine. But it hurts to smile. Not that I do it a lot anyway. I brush my teeth and put my hair up in a pony tail. I have decided that I'm taking a day off of school and if the school calls my mom I'll just tell her I had a stomach ache which isn't exactly a lie because it hurts so damn much.

I walk down the stairs slowly because this time it hurts way more than last night. I made one step and I almost screamed from the pain. "Deep... breathes. You can do this. Just one more step." I reach the last step and sigh out of relief. I don't think I'll be going up those stairs anytime soon.

In the kitchen I look for an ice pack and see that there is none so I take two bags of frozen peas instead. One for my stomach and the other for my leg. I walk to the couch and grab the remote before laying down. I am now free to be lazy all day and watch as many pretty little liars episodes as they're giving on tv.

I'm done being a couch potato. I need to get up because I think my butt will be stuck to the couch forever if I don't. There's nothing good on tv and I don't feel like watching the same movies I've watched about a million times with Tifanny and my mom. But I have nothing else to do. I think about what I could do. Something that doesn't require moving but is fun. Something that will keep me occupied for about an hour.

Ding! The light bulb appears above my head and I grin. I could start writing for that writing contest the substitute teacher told me about! All I need is pen and paper. But it's all the way up stairs.

I remove the frozen peas from myself and move to the kitchen instead of my bedroom up stairs. There has to be at least a notepad somewhere in these drawers. I open and close some drawers and only find a pen. "Why am I even looking for paper in the kitchen? Oh right, because I can't go upstairs." I walk back to the living room and open the door to the table. Inside there's a notepad, my iPod and the house phone. Of course I couldn't think about this before.

"I'm so retarded," I say to myself. I sit down on the couch and place the notepad on my lap and bit my pen in thought. What to write? I'm sure there are going to be pieces more creative or better written but I feel like I should do this for myself. Show someone what goes on in my mind with my words on paper. So I begin to write.

She smiles

But is she really happy

Or is she hiding something behind her pink curved lips?

"I'm fine"

A line she has said a million times but no one seems to know the truth

How long will it take for them to notice that she is not happy

That she is not fine?

When they find her scars underneath her sweaters

When they find her pills underneath her pillow