Adopted by Ariana Grande

Chapter One

"If anything, we should feel sorry for the people who want us to feel bad about ourselves, because they are the ones struggling for approval. In middle school, bullies tortured other kids because they thought it would make people like them more. -Ariana Grande"
I like to sing. I should add, I like to sing a lot. It's kind of my best friend. Singing can help me show emotion, like when I'm sad. Singing gives me something to do when I'm bored. And I can't leave out, I love singing Ariana Grande songs.
I've loved Ariana Grande since 2010. I've nailed the 'Cat Valentine' voice, and I can also do whistle tones! (a/n I can do the Cat voice and whistle tones lol)
Ariana has been there for me since I could last remember. Her songs, her personality, just everything about her makes me so happy. She inspired me to sing. I've never met her before though. She's come to my area for a concert before, but since my mom is a total drunk, and my dad is never home, that's an automatic no to tickets. The closest thing I've ever had to meeting Ariana, is looking at a video of her singing at a concert.
Some of my friends have met her before too, but they never invited me. I was once apart of a tight knit group of friends, but they all ditched me for the better people. I fit in, and I'm not afraid to admit that. I'm not a social outcast, or a major freak, I'm just me, and I fit in. I'm a basic, normal teenager. Nothing absurd about me that should be noted. I'm not a major popular girl, but I am noticed by them.
But lately, things haven't been so good. I run a YouTube  channel that I sing on. I upload every three days. I have nine hundred eighty seven subscribers, and I get about one thousand views each video.
But that doesn't mean that I receive no hate. I get a lot actually. Lately, the hate has been increasing. It's been very overwhelming, to the point where I almost deleted my entire channel. I've come close to this many times, but if I actually did, all my work would be put to waste.
4:28 P.M
"Hello? Anyone home?" I yell into my dark house. Quiet mumbles echo my way down the hall. The stench of alcohol drifts through the house. Mom must be home. Our living consists of empty beer bottles on the floor, a tv, and a couch. No one ever goes grocery shopping, so I have to. "Olivia? Come here now!" Mom screeches, obviously way over-drunk. I silently close my door, and lock it. There's no way I'm going out there. All she will do is curse me out and treat me like garbage. Plus, it breaks my heart seeing all the beer bottles lined up across the floor.
"Olivia? You better be 2 steps behind me or else you're out of this house for 2 days! Y'hear me?" She yells to me. Usually this happens every day. I just climb out of my window and wait for about 30 mins until she's filled with more alcohol (so she forgets that I was supposed to come to her). I sound horrible, but truly, it's the only way. My father is never home anymore (like I said before). He is so busy at bars and clubs, he basically lives at those two locations. He walked out 2 years ago, which marks the day mom started her alcohol addiction.
Mom becomes quiet again, and I climb out the window. Before dad left, everything was perfect. Who knew that the past could be our most wanted future? The cold autumn air blows around me, and the leaves fall around me. My backyard has four trees, which are home to tons of brilliant, dancing leaves.
5:15 P.M
I climb back into my room, and shut the window behind me. My bed screams at me to go to sleep. Yes, it is very early, but Mom tends to keep me up all night with her beer bottles clinking, and an occasional man entering her room too.
"Olivia? Is that you? Didn't I tell you to come over here? Or was I not..clear...enough," Mom says, her words coming louder as if she was walking towards me. "That's it! I'm coming to you!" She finishes. Click click click. Her footsteps rattle my veins. An alcohol bottle crashes on the floor, and I hide under my comforter. Mom curses, and brings herself to a halt. "I'm not done yet, Olivia!" She says, continuing to walk over the shattered glass that lies on the floor. There's no time for an escape. Her footsteps sound like thunder behind my door.
She punches my door open, and storms in. "Do you not understand what I mean when I tell you to come to me? I work so hard everyday to take care of you when this is how I get treated? I literally work my ass of every day at work so I can bring home some sort of money to feed you! I get payed minimum wage, and I spend every last penny on you! You're so selfish! Why don't you get a job and stop playing on your computer? Why don't you delete that lame YouTube channel of yours and get a life!" She screams.
I hold back all my tears, and she runs out, slamming my door behind her. She doesn't even have a job! I have a job once a month that pays $100 an hour (it's apart of a school program, and I work for 5 hours). I go to school every day, while she sits on the couch drinking alcohol and watching T.V. It's not fair one bit, and I wish I could change everything. But most of all, I wish I could bring dad back.