I Love You To The Moon And Back (On Hold)

Chapter 1

"Amy! Hurry up!"

I rolled my eyes, ignoring my mother's rather irritable voice coming from the driveway out front. Yesterday, she had been lecturing me about setting an alarm to make sure I was up in time for the first day of school. Again, I said lecturing, so I just zoned out and blocked her annoying, nagging voice out of my head.

There was no point in setting an alarm anyway, I never get much sleep as is. I get roughly two to five hours of sleep, seven max, each night; and even then I'm always up by five or six in the morning. Most of my nights are spent listening to music, watching TV, or just walking around my house for hours on end.

I would take a walk around the neighborhood, but with my mothers fear of me getting either raped or murdered the second I step out of the house alone, it's almost impossible for me to sneak out.

My mother is way too overprotective and paranoid about me and my brother, Cole. She's been that way ever since my mother and abusive father got a divorce. They split up when I was 8, and she was left to care for both me and my brother ever since. I haven't seen my father since, and I don't care to ever again. He was abusive to my mother, both physically and verbally. His mood would change in a heartbeat. One minute he would joke around, or say something that made us all laugh, and the next, he was shouting and cursing, yelling threats at my mother and occasionally me and my brother. To be honest, I'm glad he's gone.

The sound of a car horn followed by my mothers shouts pulled me out of my thoughts. She was again yelling at me to hurry up or else I'd be late, but honestly, I didn't really give a crap if I was on time or not. That school is one big giant hell hole to begin with. I despise that school and would rather stay home all day. I've tried skipping a couple times back in 9th grade, but my house was always locked due to the fact that my mom was rarely home. I usually just ended up loitering outside the school for a good two to three hours before I was caught by some stupid security guard.

I sighed loudly to myself. S.C.H.O.O.L., seven crappy hours of our lives.

"Amy!"

My mother shouted my name once more, and I finally had enough. I stormed over to my window, putting my arms on the window pane and looking out onto our driveway, a dull and annoyed expression on my face.
My mother was standing next to her silver Subaru. The drivers side door was open, with my mothers hands perched on top of it. Despite her two inch black heels, she was standing on her tippy toes, yelling up to my window. A guy across the street retrieving his newspaper from his front step yelled at her to shut up, and a woman jogging by gave her a look like she was nuts and cranked up the music on her iPod. I saw my brother in the front passenger seat, rolling his eyes and looking away as if he didn't know her. I chuckled to myself.

My mother, seeing that she had gained my attention, started motioning for me to come outside.

"Amy! Come on honey, we're going to be late!"

I again rolled my eyes and moved away from the window, grabbing my black book bag that lay on the window sill. It was, originally, a pale blue color; but after years of doodling and drawing on it, the book bag was now a blackish color, which I don't mind. I actually prefer it that way.

I made my way over to my bedroom door, taking one last glance at my reflection in my full body mirror. For a second, I questioned why I still had that mirror. I never enjoyed looking at myself in the mirror, and I rarely did. Every time I've managed to look at myself, I would point out every single flaw that I had. My eyes would be glued to the mirror for hours, just staring at my image, which I was not happy with.
There's a small piece of the corner missing, from when I punched it out when I was angry. Now, the cardboard backing is the only thing that remains.
I examined myself and my outfit of choice it the mirror: a skin tight grey sweater, black skinny jeans with slits in them, exposing parts of my legs, and dirty, worn, black Converse. My face was pale; I had bags under my eyes from lack of sleep, but I didn't really care. Makeup makes me feel fake, plus it hurts my eyes, so I don't bother to buy any or put any on (except for special occasions). My hair, (after much protest and begging to my mother) was dyed dark brown instead of its natural blonde color and put into a messy side braid.

I could've stood there for hours, just staring at my reflection, but I had to get to school. My pale hand gripped my book bag strap and I took a deep breath. Hopefully, everyone will just leave me alone this year, and stop bullying and picking on me, like they had been for the past two years. I sighed loudly to myself. Two more years, and I'll be out of here. Out of that stupid school, out of this crappy town, out of this small house. I'll finally be free.

My feet moved quickly as I went toward the door, grabbing my phone off of my dresser and plugging my earbuds in before closing the door to my room. As I hurried down the stairs, I put my earbuds in my ears and cranked up the volume, blasting the music from my favorite band, Bring Me The Horizon.

I didn't bother to grab an apple or granola bar on my way out the door. I usually wasn't very hungry in the mornings, and I always skipped breakfast. To me, the most "important meal of the day" didn't really matter. My body functioned fine without it anyway.

As I slammed the front door shut, I jammed my key into the key hole, having quite a hard time locking the piece of crap door. After a minute of fiddling around with it, I successfully closed and locked the door. I slipped the key into my pocket and walked over to my moms Subaru. My mom looked me up and down, giving me a look that told me she didn't really approve of my outfit of choice. She said nothing and climbed into the drivers seat just as I got into the back seat.

My mom shifted into reverse, pulling out and barely missing the trash cans that are at the bottom of the driveway. As we drove down the street, so many thoughts were going through my head; I was always anxious about the first day of school. In preschool, it was just little butterflies, but in high school, plus with anxiety, it's ten times worse.

Damn I hate school.