𝙰𝙽𝙳𝚁𝙴𝚂

𝐼.

WEE-WOO WEE-WOO WE-
My dad is screaming at our family to stay back and out of the living room as loud sirens and the smell of burning rubber can be heard coming from down the street. A little shaken by the noise, I rub my eyes and head into the living room to see what the commotion is about. "PUT YOUR HANDS ON THE GROUND AND DO NOT MOVE," is what I can hear as another cop pulls out a gun and points it at my dad. My dad's eyes as he is forcibly handcuffed catch my attention, but I can also hear in the distance my mother screaming and several of the guys from our neighborhood trying to console her. the last thing I can recall is watching the door of the police car slam shut thru the tiny window in our living room and cop cars racing down the street and out of our driveway.

𝗙𝗹𝗮𝘀𝗵𝗯𝗮𝗰𝗸 𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿

I was startled awake by a sound I'd grown to despise, as I peered around my room to see sirens wailing outside my window and out of my neighborhood.

Unaware that I had been holding my breath, I exhaled deeply in an attempt to calm my pounding heart. The one time I sleep, it is disrupted. Great. I check my phone and discover that it is 5:18 a.m., which is far too early to be up. I'm not going to be able to sleep with my mind running so much.

I put on my worn-out gray slippers as I step out onto the balcony and watch as the sun slowly starts to peak over the ancient buildings. I listen to the sound of traffic while I close my eyes and inhale the smell of fresh rain, I always thought it was strange how you could smell the air and tell that it has rained.

Speaking of rain, I wonder if one of her clients dropped her off last night? Her walk in the chilly rain would be uncomfortable, especially since it is late at night. I'd rather my mum have a career where she adds even a little value to people she assists. However, because she pays the majority of the rent, I have little say in how things are run around here.

I sighed and turned around to go back inside. As I close the balcony door, the sound of tripping and some kind of glass shattering fills the air. In a hurry, I lock the balcony door and run down the stairs to see what caused the noise. While descending the stairs, I see what appears to be my mother huddled over in the kitchen from the staircase's railing.

As I go closer, I can hear a faint sound of laughter.

I turned on the light and saw my mother laughing uncontrollably at the smashed glass bottle that fell beneath her feet. My mind is a little blown, so I'm not sure if she was truly delirious after "working" 12 hours or simply extremely inebriated. Regardless of the circumstances, hearing her giggle made me happy. This made me believe she was more than the cold, heartless zombie she seemed to be. After cleaning up the broken glass, I accompany my mother upstairs to her bedroom and into her bed. While being careful not to step on the squeaky floorboards Surprisingly she didn't put up much of a fight thanks to her drunken state.

It was almost time for me to get ready for school by the time I returned to my room. I wash my hands and begin searching through my small walk-in closet. In an ideal world, I'd be wearing my cookie monster pajama pants and a worn-out sweater with pizza sauce stains, but that's not going to happen. My snobbish principal would definitely expel me before I even got to first period.

To avoid being booted out before even beginning my day. I choose a black and grey sweater, a black tank top, and a pair of worn-out dark denim jeans. I wear my waist-length honey-brown hair in a crooked, untamed ponytail, if you can call it that. I take my English book from my desk, as well as my tarnished necklace with my father's photo on the locket. Slowly, I begin to stroll down the creaky steps, peering into my mother's room to ensure she hasn't vomited. Soon after, I began my walk to school.