The blood runs down my arms and the tears roll down my face. The watered down blood pool formed what looked like a skull on the uneven cement floor. The cellar was always the perfect place to spill my disgusting blood.
I wrap up my wrists as the blood clots and ceases to spill. I have to stand up slowly or else the blood loss would make me very dizzy.
"Courtney? Are you down there again?" My dad calls down to me. He must need my help with dinner.
"Yes dad. I'm down here. What do you need?" Here it comes.
"Your mother got, um, a little tipsy tonight and can't cook dinner. Would you help me?"
"Yes dad. I'll be up in a moment." I knew it. Mom got wasted again. If mom caught dad saying wasted she'd beat him with any hard thing she could find.
I hear his footsteps fade away toward the kitchen. And then it happens. I hear my little brother crying. I run upstairs to find out exactly what I suspected.
"Mommy! I'm sorry please stop!" My mother has my little brother, Kyle, by the hair and is screaming at him.
"Call me mommy one more time you little accident! I dare you!" Kyle wasn't planned and mother never wanted him.
"Stop!" I rip Kyle from my mother's drunken grasp. "He didn't mean any harm Alice." She likes to be called by her first name. I walk him quickly to his bedroom.
"I'm sorry!" Kyle grabs onto my shirt and tears and snot run down his innocent little face. I rub his back and try to comfort him as best I can.
"It's not your fault K. It's alright. Shhh now. It'll all be ok." I pick him up and lay him in his bed. The poor thing cried so hard he wasted all his energy.
"Courtney! Hurry! I think is burning! Ahhh!" Dad's burning dinner, again. I run to the kitchen and push dad away from the food. In one swift scoop I flip the almost charcoal like food.
"You need to be careful." I scold my own father. What a disfunctional family.By the time we finished dinner it was already 8pm. So I did whatever homework I had for two hours and then went to bed, exhausted.
My mornings always go the same way. I wake up, shower, brush my teeth, get dressed and then take an hour to do my makeup and hair. I always do it and I don't know why. It's a habit I guess. Or is it more like an addiction? Anyway, once I finished I headed to school. Oh boy another day of Faking It.
YOU ARE READING
Fake It
RandomI wish it was something I could control, but, this melancholy facade is some kind of force that I cannot tame. All my life I have tried to break free of it. When will my lying and acting stop?!