Bruises

1

(A/N) Hola! Hope y'all like this idea lol :)
My momma' still looks at me with fear in her eyes. I don't think I look much like my father, but I'm a constant reminder of him. She hardly talks to me. I'm used to it though.
Today is the first day of junior year.
It's four in the morning, I know exactly how my day will go but something keeps me up.
I tug at my shirt sleeves and stare at the white popcorn ceiling for so long I could tell you every landscape of it. I dread my alarm, I dread the noise that will soon erupt from it. The window by my bed is cold, so I press my face against it and look out to the road.
I guess a perk of living in this small town is my neighbors. Or lack there of.
Five minutes until the alarm. Maybe I should set it back more. No, I've got things to do. Extra time might make it easier though.
"It was the heat of the moment..." Suddenly blasts through the small speaker of my cell phone.
The space behind my eyes throbs as I sit up, as if screaming at me to stay in bed. I slap the phone in attempt to shut off that terrible Asia song Sam loves so much. Like a monster of sorts I let out a inhuman noise that is somewhere in the mix of a groan and  growl.
Slowly I push my hands into my hair and then flop back down onto my bed.
I'll just skip today.
No, I'm not my father. That's something he would do.
I get up, pull on my jeans and white long sleeve shirt. I flick on the light. It's just a light bulb. I could've gotten something more than that, but that's just a waste.
My eyes wander to the mirror in my room, one I often wish never existed.
I sigh as I trudge out of my room, grabbing my cigarettes as I do.
I might be an addict but I'm still not my father.
I walk downstairs to the kitchen, my bare feet hitting the wooden stairs.
For some reason I make toast for myself, but only eat it because I made it. I didn't really feel hungry.
I stare down at the plate of half eaten bread, and trash the rest.
Stuck in the same song lyrics I go sit out on the front step.
There's a nervous bleeding slowly seeping through my brain as I inhale the smoke.
My brother tells me smoking will kill me. I told him it's that or the whiskey.
I felt really bad about that.
Before I put out the smoke a faded yellow school bus is driving up to my lawn.
I get in the bus first, like always, because my house is the closest to the school.
Some buses have single seats, this one doesn't.
I sit in the back, pressed tightly against the window.
Closing my eyes I lean against the thin wall.
This is my favorite and least favorite part of the day.
It's my favorite because sometimes I can hear the sounds outside and imagine I'm on a bus out of this cold town.
It's my least favorite because when I open my eyes again I'm still here. For some reason that makes me fell like I'll never be able to get out.
The bus fills, making me feel like I'm going to run out of air any second.
Mindless chatter continues until my head is numb.
"Uhm. Can I sit here." A small but deep voice questions.
I flick open my eyes.
Cas Novak.