Unexplainable

Chapter 1.

I woke by an unexpected alarm. I could feel the bed dipping next to me as two small hands shook my sides. Poking and prodding into my soft tissue. I gave up and signed. Obviously I wasn't going to have a lie in today... As usual.
Turning over, the familiar face and the messy mop of hair greeted my sleep driven eyes.
"Dem!" *shake shake* "Dem! Wake up!" The demanding voice of a 6 year old insisted.
"Why do you get up so early?" I mumbled into my pillow, savouring the last bit of warmth before I would have to inevitably rise into the cold air.
"Why do you have to stay in bed all day?" The whining voice replied.
The whining voice belonged to my adoptive sister, Rebecca. I'll tell you about that later.
"Okay, I'm getting up!" I flipped the sheets from my legs, letting the cold air hit me like a concrete wall.
"Only if you go get some poptarts," I expressed, amusing when she totted off, running to Susan, our adoptive mother. I picked up my phone, nothing, as usual. I let the warmth of the sun hit my skin as it weaved through the gaps in the curtains. The dust particles floating around, making the atmosphere more calm.
I rose and padded out of my room, running my hand on the bumpy wallpaper. I arrived in the bathroom, weaved my way through the toys that scattered haphazardly on the floor. Looking at myself in the mirror, my hair was a mess as always, still uncontrollable. My plain face was staring back at me, one blue/brown eye wonkier than the other. My lips were dry and chapped.
My pale/dark skin littered with spots.
I raked the brush through my knots. I rattled the bottles underneath the bathroom sink, weaving through all the children's shampoos, bubble baths, medicated oils and all things like that until I found my face wash.
Jogging downstairs I swung around the corner.
"Shit!" A stray piece of Lego was stuck in between my toes.
"You okay, Dem?" John asked, my adoptive father.
Yep, I'm adopted. Susan and John adopts children after they had a bad start in life. You see, my mother committed suicide after my father left when I was 8. I was the one who found her, no one else was in the house except me. I can't remember it. I think because of the shock, my mind just decided to, blank out the memory. Rebecca was adopted after a family friend passed away, leaving Rebecca alone. So we took her in, well, when I mean we, I mean Susan and John.
Then there's Michael and Dan. Michael is 9 and dan is the youngest of the house, 5. They're brothers, I'm not really allowed to know what happened to them. John says that it's not up to me to know. I probably don't want to know. In our household, we put our past behind us. We have a new start to life in here.
"Yep," I winced "I'm fine!" I replied, pulling out the small piece of coloured plastic.
Walking, well limping, into the kitchen, my bare feet slapping against the tiles. Rebecca was perched on one of the kitchens white bar stool. Ruffling her hair, I plopped down next to her.
"Okay, it's either poptarts or pancakes," Susan exclaimed, facing the cooker. "You choose"
"Pancakes! Pancakes!" Rebecca shouted, we rarely have pancakes in the house. The other children put too much syrup on theirs. Me, sticking with my regime, I chose poptarts.

"So, how's life going, Dem?" Susan asked. She asks this question every morning, and every morning I reply with;
"Same as always..."
"How about your friends? Anything new there?" She always does this, always nagging me to socialise more, to get real friends.
"What, my internet friends?" I wondered. "They're fine."
"No, I mean, your real friends," she's trying to get any information out of me. It's not working.
"I haven't got any real friends," I said, laughing a bit as I broke a bit of the frosted pastry off of my cherry poptart.
"You can't be alone forever, Dem." Susan informed.
"Umm, yes I can"
I've been alone for most of my life, blocking everyone out. Making sure that no one has any peek into my mind. Don't feel sorry for me, I want to be alone. I'm not one of those popular people that goes to parties every week. The last party I went to was Rebecca's, which is probably better because there's no horny teen boys feeling me up.
That was the end of our conversation. She knows that I don't like people knowing my business. So I left, carrying the pop-tarts upstairs.

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So, not much. Just a little more insight into her mind again.