Faded (The Outsiders FF)

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

I woke up to the sun shining down on my face, my face that was tear-stained, and bruised. I hesitantly got up, and stretched. Forcing myself out of a groggy state. I took a glance at the clock on my wall. 9:00. It's a good thing today is Saturday. Today I'm gonna go to the library and ask for a job on the weekends. Then later I'm gonna meet up with Pony at Dairy Queen. We're gonna go look around and kill time, before we go see a movie tonight. I looked at the sunlight streaming through the window in seemingly perfect lines. When I was 4 I would run through the sunlight streaming in, because I thought it would give me magic powers. My mom told me that the light was magic sent to brighten up my day, just like it brightens up the room. I know it sounds cheesy, but i was four. I would believe anything. It's funny, because it seems like when you're little everything is easier. Almost perfest, your family, your friends, your life, and when you get older it all...crashes. Reality hits, responsibilities are given, you can't just play and daydream all the time. When I was little I would always say that I had the absolute best father in the world, and I never thought any different. I wish I could say the same for Sarah. I'm sure that now she has some kind of fear in her previously fearless heart. The one person that we used to think would never hurt us, has. She is too young to realize just how wrong the world really is. When you get older it seems that you have taken your share of the fruit from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. At first it's like nothing can go wrong, and then one bite and you realize that your parents argue, your friend's parents are divorced, and when you think it can't get any worse it does. You know I've always been told that there will be ups and downs, now I know just exactly what that means. Maybe a little too well. Life can throw some pretty hard curveballs your way. Man, I miss being a little kid, they really were simpler times. Now everything is just so...confusing, and tangled up.

I looked around my bedroom. It wasn't what most people would call "average", especially in these days. All my friend's rooms, that I've seen are dreary. They're always bland, and beige, but mine is vibrant, and alive. It is done in all shades of blue, navy blue, sky blue, ocean blue, turquoise, and more. My pillowcase is sky blue with big, bold, and white polka dots. My comforter is the opposite. White with blue polka dots. Of course buying that would be really expensive, so my mom and grandma made them. Before she, you know, passed. I have a navy blue hand-made dresser, that my uncle gave me the day I was born. He also made a dresser for Michael and Sarah. Sarah's is pink, and Michael's is just plain hard wood. My uncle is a carpenter. It's a pretty unusual gift, but that's why I like it. The dresser has hand carved flowers flowing into the corners. On top of the dresser I have two bookends that I made in 9th grade. It was pretty hard, believe me. I spent months on them. But it was worth it, and it was practical, since I have an endless amount of books. They're stashed everywhere, on shelves, on my dresser, on top of my headboard, in my closet. I sighed, I knew I had to get up.

I stepped out of bed and reluctantly looked in the mirror. The bruise my father had left was purple, and sadly, in the shape of a hand. Which meant people could obviously tell what had happened if I couldn't cover it up. I cautiously touched the purple handprint spread across my left cheek. It was a little sore, but not what I had expected. I stepped into the shower, and let the hot water stream across my body. I stepped out and dressed into some light blue denim capris that went a little past my knees, and a white tank top with a pink embroidered R on the left side. I dried my strawberry-blond hair, then French braided it to the side, and got to work on my face. Luckily the bruise was light-colored so my foundation covered it fairly well. I put my mascara on, which I always do because of my blond lashes, and a light amount of eyeliner. My makeup was clean, and playfull, unlike most greaser girls who always wear too much smudged up makeup.

I crept downstairs, and made sure my dad left for work, before I helped Sarah get dressed, so I could take her with me to the library, then drop her off at the daycare dad signed her up for when we moved. I peeked in Sarah's bright pink room, and saw her still fast asleep in her bed. I cursed myself for not checking up on her before I went to bed, because when I got closer I could see bruises on her arms and legs. That was a sure-fire sign that dad had beat her, before I came home. I should've just stayed here, and not gone to the dance, I thought to myself as Sarah's eyes fluttered open, and she sat up. She always had a grin on her face when she woke up, no matter what happened the day before. She is definitely a morning person. I dressed her in a pale blue floral dress, but me being her role model she wanted to look like me.