Breaking In the Villian

Just a normal day as a high school error

It's Monday, go figures. The weekend, once again, flew by so fast that I dont even know it's a school day until my door flies open and my older sister starts rummaging through my stuff again. She's screaming about me "stealing her new perfume" again, and throwing a fit about a pair of jeans she gave me three years ago that would now, never fit.

I slowly sit up and rub the sleep out of my eyes. I barely have enough time to yawn and go to stretch when a shirt is tossed at my face, covering my vision. The door slams shut, and I hear her tearing through the rest of the house like a bat out of hell looking for whatever she can to "fix her mug". I peel the shirt off my face and notice my once black shirt is now stained green, orange, and streaks of pink nail polish. I quickly jump up to the mirror and see that, although it's on my face, it's not in my hair.

"It's the small miracles." I say, and grab a makeup wipe to try to get it off. Luckily some of it dried and I was just able to pick it off my skin. I slowly go into my closet and see that it had been ransacked. "Hmm. Wonder who could've done that." I sarcastically roll my eyes and pick up whatever I can salvage from the floor and throw it on my bed. "Good enough for now. I'll have to ask dad to help me put that shelf back on the wall." The poor shelf was hanging onto the wall by a single bit of drywall and a dream, everything on top of it, scattered onto the floor. I scrape up the majority of the items and place them on the vanity, which has also been torn to shreds, but less than the closet. I look at the vanity to see, "you steal my perfume again, and I'll bury you" scrawled all over the mirror in red lipstick.

"So much for my makeup today... guess I'll just bring it with me and do it on the bus." I get up and away from the vanity and slip on a pair of oversized black pants, my studded belt, a motionless in white tee-shirt, and my black off brand Converse. I snag a look at the rest of my room, clean other than where my sister went through it like a freight truck, and headed downstairs. I hear my sister yelling in her room to no one in particular and really hope she's on the phone with whatever new boy-toy she's planning on hooking up with. I walk downstairs to see my little brother sitting in his high chair, dad at the table reading the paper and mom is nowhere to be seen.

"Hey dad." I say, and send my little brother little finger waves.
"Sup kiddo!" My dad says super enthusiasticly, putting his paper down and all, which he never does.
"Um... what's up with you?" I say, looking him up and down like a sociopath that's holding a ticking bomb. I grab a bowl out of the cabinet, and check the food selections. Cereal, fruit cup, or nothing. I select an apple and the least sugary cereal I can manage and take a seat.

"Your proud papa got a promotion!" He says before I can even feel the seat under me. "Wow dad. That's great! What's the new promotion for?"
I chomp away at my cereal which is so stale it should be illegal.
"Well for being good at my job honey! I have been promoted to the stay at home position so I can spend more time with you all!" He wraps his hand around my little brother, Sam, and begins to play with him and tries to get him to eat his applesauce which is now all over the floor as well as his body.

"Are you sure you weren't just fired dad?" My sister, Amelia, remarks as she stalks down the carpeted stairs in heels far too high to be legal and way too uncomfortable for me to even think of.
"I was not fired Amelia, now stop it. Get some breakfast." He says, immediately clamming up and going back to his paper. "OK. Whatever. Im taking the Bentley to school. Bye loser." She smirks, taking the keys to the most expensive car, and walking out the door.

My dad sighs deep, and puts the paper down. "Dad...? What's wrong?" I ask, putting a hand on his arm for comfort. Not just for him, but for me too, cause I knew whatever news he had wasn't good if he left Amelia out.

"Luna..." Uh-oh. Hes using my nickname. Now this really isn't good news. "Your mother is gone." I look at him dumbfounded and confused. "Dad, what do you mean she's gone? She's just asleep isn't she? She worked last night so she's probably tired." I ramble, I dont want my dad to worry, as she had a tendency to pass out at work and not tell anyone. "No Luna. She's.... she's gone this time. She kept threatening me with divorce and well..." he says, sliding a giant orange envelope to me addressed in a sickeningly beautiful handwriting and formal text 'To Mr. Micheal Sinclair"

I looked over to Sam, who wasn't even old enough to eat by himself yet, and just felt sorry for him. He wouldn't remember our mother at all, and while Amelia and I had all these memories, he would have none.