Tears and Eyeliner (Book 1)

"Who The Hell Are You?"

Birthdays mean nothing to me.

I stared at the glowing numbers on my alarm clock with a blank expression. January 3rd, 2004. No big deal, I'm not expecting anything big— or anything at all. I'm just a year older.

My name is Elsie, no last name. Well, my full name technically is Elsie Laura Johnson; that was the last name of my parents. However, every foster family I've been to forced their last names on me like glue to paper, so that name has no meaning anymore.
And apparently I'm 13 years old.

I stretch my arms, looking around my sad, small bedroom, which looks more
like an insane asylum. My "parents" didn't even bother me getting a bed; I just sleep on a mattress on the floor. The only things I have in my room is a mattress, one fluffy blanket and a pillow without a case, my alarm clock plugged into the wall, books, and my school backpack.

The current family I'm living in is the Taylor's. It's not as nightmarish as the other families I've lived with, but it's still hell. I'm pretty sure the only reason they adopted me is to get the government aid that's supposed to be for me, but they use it for random shit.

For starters, my "parents" do not care about me at all. They either pretend that I don't exist, or talk shit about me when I'm in the room. Mr. and Mrs. Taylor scream and argue at each other during the middle of the night 9 times out of ten, so I barely get any sleep. They act pissed at me when I don't do shit, and everything I do is like walking on eggshells.

Then there's Matt. He's my foster brother. Even though he's a year older, I feel like I'm babysitting a five year old. I'm a human punching bag to him, and worse, his friends when he has them over. Good thing there is a lock on my door.

At least two more months of this, and I'm out of here.

I rubbed my eyes, getting out of bed, walking over to my closet. I sighed, sliding it open. I chose a black sweatshirt with a pink glittery star on it, which I got when I was nine, and black jeans that are almost faded into gray. I put my black converse on, which are a bit too small for me. Half awake, I looked in the mirror, quickly brushing my dark brown hair and tying it into a ponytail. I frown, looking down at how tight the shirt is to my chest, stretching it out a bit, adjusting it. Looking into my brown, tired eyes, I sighed. "I'm a mess..." I look in the mirror, putting on a black baseball cap, "Good enough, I guess", I said, leaving it on backwards, finally putting a black locket, which has a picture of my birth mother inside, taken when she was in high school. I swiftly turned around, deciding to make breakfast with whatever the hell is in the pantry.

I tiptoed over to the main part of the house, only to realize that Mrs. Taylor is already up. She is reading a book. I squint my eyes, 'The Da Vinci Code'. I decided to go back to what I'm doing before she can notice me. Biting my lip, I opened the pantry.

"Good morning, Elsie."

Slowly, I turned around, seeing that her icy blue eyes are staring directly at me, and she runs a hand through her unkept dyed blonde hair, which is almost showing her gray roots.
"..Hi."

"What are you doing?"

What does it look like I'm doing, dumbass?

I forced a smile on my face, "I'm just making some breakfast."

"Ah."

We stayed like that for a moment, before she spoke again. "Did you forget what today is?"

There's no way she actually cares. "It's your birthday. Once Matt wakes up, I'll give you two money so you can find something to do."

After a few seconds, I realized it was not an act of kindness; it was just an excuse to ship her children off to somewhere else for a few hours. Plus, a day with Matt does not sound like a cup of tea; I'd rather watch oil paint dry.