Drawing in a New Direction

Her hand slaps the soft, easily hurt part of my cheek.

It feels as if I have been smacked with a hammer.

Bam! i hear my head hit the cold, hard pavement.

I look up at the gray tinted sky above me.

i can feel liquid flowing from somewhere, I don't know where..

it is not raining, but it is definitely liquid.

it flows downwards from my head, towards my ear, to my cheek, and into my mouth..

it tastes matalic like. and then it hits me...

it's blood.

My head is cracked open. I can feel the pupils of my eyes get bigger.. a dizzy, drunk feeling comes

over me. my eyes flutter open and close back quickly. i try to move my arm, but it feels numb. i tilt my

head up but the gravity of the ground mixed with my nauseous feeling brings my head back to the

ground, into a puddle of something wet. i turn my head and through my blurry eyes i see a tent not

so unfamiliar to me. Red.

I take my shaking, unsteady hand and put it up to my head, where i think the bleeding is coming

from.. through my tangled  hair i feel the instant touch of a gash, the size of a school id.

“crap” I say thinking about how much my mom is gonna kill me. But then again, she did do this to

me. I shutter back from the burning sensation from my sensitive, cut, skin.

 i rest my head back onto the pavement and close my eyes as I hear footsteps head towards me.

 i instantly open my eyes up. my blurry vision is changing shapes and making it hard to see who

is coming over. I squint my eyes as the figure gets closer, and closer. The figure gets closer and

closer and now I can see it is my mom. When she finally makes it over to me she looks down with a

frown, her hair pushed up into a messy, knotted bun. pieces of hair fall out of the lose bun and

droops downwards.

 Her torso is dressed in a pink Floyd tee-shirt, with holes everywhere, probably for cigarettes and a

piece of cloth is missing from the bottom half of the shirt. A pair of torn up sweat pants and

flip flops complete her outfit. "why are you still on the ground you lazy piece of garbage? my  boyfriend is coming over

tonight and i need the house to be perfect." she says kicking my torso, telling me to get up.

Oh god...another one of her many boyfriends coming to see the house.. another normal day in my

life. I place my hand in front of me, attempting to get up. I lift my self up but fall back down. "I didn't hit

you that hard you wimp." my mom adds stepping over me and heading back to our house. After

about 3 failed attempts i finally get up and stand to my feet. I hold onto the mailbox for support. I

slowly make my way up to the door of my house. I turn back and look at the puddle of my blood

staining the drive way, next to my book bag. I walk inside, open the closet door, grab a bucket and a