Haven't You Heard?

I sat down on the couch as my mother climbed up the stairs. I hate my mother. Ever since my father killed himself, she became a drug addict, a drinker and a prostitute. Yeah awesome right? It was night and she thought I wouldn't catch her. Guess what? She thought wrong. 

A man followed her, and so did another. I sneered in disgust. It was dark and not a light was on. My mother was giggling and whispering.

"My daughter is upstairs, so be quiet. " She hissed. The two men with her chuckled.

"I'm down here actually." I spat as I got up from the couch. I flicked on a light next to me and the room lit itself up. 

"Zara! It's late, go to bed!" my mother screamed in her hooker boots. 

"Er . . we're just going to go." One of the guys said. My mother turned around, her blond hair swooshing behind her. "A-are you sure?" She asked trying to be flirtatious. 

She tried to convince them but it wasn't working. 

So this was my life. Dealing with my childish mother bringing home random strangers at random times of the night. Then me, chasing them off - almost as if I'm the parent. I'd get a job but I have to stay home and make sure my mother doesn't get in too bad of trouble. Since my dad, she's done some awful things that cause her eyes to grow heavy with tiredness, and her voice thick and dazed. The drugs take a toll. She took too much heroine once and I had to take her to a hospital. Fun right? It's an 18 year olds dream.

Nights pass and I wonder why dad ever had to do what he did. Why did he have to leave me with this dumb nugget of a mom? Did he hate me as well as he did himself? Too bad he wasn't here to answer these questions.

—

Today was Monday and I was attending a new school. I always had to move school to school. Mother never told me why though, making everything frustrating. When I asked her about it, it always turned into a fight - which ended in her drinking away her sorrows.

I put on my floral collared shirt with a tie on the bottom, along with some short shorts and combat boots. 

I know I'm sassy in my own house, but at school, I have to keep silent. Mom always tells me to. She tells me to blend in and raise my hand once a week so I don't look suspicious. 

Why you ask?

No mother trucking clue! 

She won't tell me and it's not fair.  

I trudged on to school, walking all by myself. I finally neared Houston Elite Academy. I sighed and made my way to the office. I walked in and there was an old lady on her computer with classes on the bridge of her nose.

"Um, hi I'm Zara and I'm new. Can I have my schedule?" I asked nervously. I didn't like being near new people. I never made friends since my mother told me not to.

"Zara Harper?" She asked. I nodded. She held up a finger and typed a second more. She turned her wheely chair to her printer and grabbed a paper.

"Here you are dear." She said and went back to her computer. I bit my lip and walked out of the office, my Arizona tea printed backpack sloshing behind me.

I walked in and there was a full hallway of shuffling kids. I heard some yelling and screaming. I furrowed my brows. Out of curiosity, and because my class was in that direction, I started to walk in the loud direction.

People were making a small huddle, all yelling and jaunting. I neared the front and saw a fight was taking place. 

There were two guys fighting. Well . . . one trying to at least. He had glasses with a shattered plate. His shirt was collared and plaid. His shorts were kahky and he was wearing running shoes. Many were laughing at the big buff guy for kicking this small ones ass.