I Spy

Chapter 2

   Walking through the front doors of my house, I try to be as quiet as possible. I don't want my mother knowing that I am home.

  I know what you're probably thinking. I broke curfew, but the truth is I haven't had a curfew since I was sixteen. No the fact of the matter is my mother is a raging alcoholic. Her and her best friend Jack Daniels are always hanging out with each other. Every night after mom gets home from work and always on the weekends.

Closing the door softly, I slowly creep towards the stairs. Being that I do this everyday, I know where every squeak and crack are, even in the dark. Getting up to the fourth step, I step down and it creaks underneath my weight. Shit! I quietly curse under my breath. Freezing where I stand, I listen intently for any movement.

Nothing, but silence.

I continue making my way up the stairs, when I hear her.

"Bianca, where in the hell have you been?" she asks approaching the stairs.

Sighing, I turn around and look at her. She looks awful. Her long reddish blonde hair in tangles and looks as if it hasn't been brushed in weeks. Looking into her eyes, I see they are glassy. She's been drinking yet again. She never used to be like this. Things used to be different. That was before... before. Shaking the thoughts from my head, I decide to answer her.

"The same place I always go to mom," I say rolling my eyes.

"Don't you dare roll your eyes at me. Now answer my question."

"The library. If you weren't drunk all the time you would have known that," I reply angrily.

Shock covers her pale face as it registers in her whiskey induced brain. "You are such an ungrateful bitch. I give you a roof over your head, clothes to wear, and food to eat. Can I not just kick back and relax after a hard day of work?" she asks running out of breath and slurring her words.

Looking at her, I roll my eyes and turn around to head to my bedroom. I hear her tripping and stumbling trying to get to me. Cursing everytime she cracks her shin on a step. I am almost to the top when my head is yanked backwards. I lose my balance, as I fell head over feet down the stairs taking my mother, Cynthia with me.

Hitting the bottom I land on my back, as my breath is knocked out of me. I close my eyes, trying to relax and make my lungs cooperate. I try to sit up, but something or someone is preventing me. When I look up, Cynthia is straddled on top of me.

"Get the fuck off of me you crazy bitch!" I yell at her.

She doesn't say anything. She just stares at me. Before I can yell at her again, her fist meets my  face over and over. With each hit, pain shoots through my body. I cry out in pain as tears flow down my face.

Crack!

The hitting stops, as I feel the warm liquid trickle out of my nose into my mouth. The rusty iron taste makes me choke.

"Bianca baby, I'm so soo sorry," she stutters out.

I glare at her and say through gritted teeth,"Fuck off you crazy bitch. Leave me alone or I will call the police and you remember what happened last time." I get up quickly and run upstairs to the bathroom, slamming the door.

Taking a deep breath I look in the mirror. Reaching up I touch my now broken nose and wince. My left eye throbbing and swollen. Bruises slowly making their way to the surface. Over the next couple of days the brutal punches Cynthia laid on my face will be prominent. Guess, I will hang out in the treehouse in the backyard for the next couple of days.

Grabbing a washcloth out of the cabinet, I wipe away the blood and try to wipe away the memory. Her brow furrowed as she strikes me harder and harder. Her smirk turning up into an evil grin. In my mind I know it is the alcohol talking, but here lately it was getting harder and harder to tell who my mother really was.

Finishing up, I walk into my bedroom. It is like any typical girls room. Posters of my favorite bands, Paramore, Flyleaf, Evanescense, and my all time favorite singer, Robbie Sinclair. He has the voice of an angel and the body of a god.  

While fantasizing about Robbie I slip into my soft,  purple tinkerbell pajamas. I know what you are thinking, tinkerbell pajamas.. really? Well the answer is yes. Who doesn't like Tinkerbell?

Throwing my dirty clothes in the laundry basket, I walk over to my door and lock it. I sure as hell don't want Cynthia coming in here. Turning out the light I make my over to my bed and crawl underneath my big purple comforter. Thoughts of only moments ago flash before my eyes. Instead of holding in my pain, I break down the flood walls and let my emotions flow out one tear at a time. Eventually my body gives out as I cry myself to sleep.

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   Awaking the next morning, I regret crying. My swollen puffy eyes make it hard to see. Walking to the bathroom, I grab a warm wash cloth and place it on my eyes. The warmth spreads through my eyes, taking away the sting and calms the swelling.

  Five minutes later, I take off the washcloth and force myself to look in the mirror. My mouth drops as I take in the damage. The bruises fully exposing themselves, black and blue. I look like a raccoon. Wondering how long my bruises will stay visible, my stomach starts to growl. I am starving.

Hopefully mom is still passed out. If not she still won't talk to me. I meant what I said last night and she knew it. On my way to the fridge, I turn on the tv to the news channel. I missed Robbie's concert last night and was hoping they would show clips of it.

Searching through the fridge, I decide on leftover pizza and milk.

"Robbie Sinclair's concert was sold out last night as millions of screaming fans filled the stadium. To end his concert he sang his number one hit you stole my heart. The big pop sensation hasn't had anyone steal his heart yet. Breaking news! This just in last night around 11:30 a couple was brutally murdered in the back alley next to Joey's pub. The couple's names have yet to be identified. The police are investigating and say that there were no witnesses. If you have any information please call 1-877-LMPD."

 Staring at the tv, an uneasy feeling fills my stomach. Every night I walk home from the library I always pass by Joey's pub. Running through my thoughts I remember seeing that couple making out by the dumpster. I shook my head and continued on. As I passed Rue 21, which was six stores down from Joey's pub, I heard a blood curtling scream. Instead of stopping I ran the rest of the way home.

Oh shit! I never really thought about calling the cops or anything. Then it hit me. I heard someone being murdered last night. That could have been me if the librarian hadn't of kicked me out.