Melted

Chapter 1

"This is your third F this year Eleina!" My mom's voice was cold, and it stung like ice when she yelled. You'd think I'd be used to it by now because all she does shout at me, we hardly ever have a real, calm conversation. It seems like every time we do talk she's always lecturing me on how much of a failure and a disappointment I am to not only her but the rest of the family.

I hung my head low and thought for a moment. I never like to yell back at her because I don't want her to grow violent towards me because she would if I provoked her. "I'm sorry mom. It won't happen again."

"You've said that practically every day for three years!" She slammed my progress report on the table and searched my eyes. "What is wrong with you?"

I scanned through my head for the right words to say but nothing came out. It's not that I can't answer that question, because I very well can, it's just that I don't want to answer it.

A while back, I believe it was in the seventh grade, (I'm a junior now) I was having trouble reading and writing. I would mix up 'woman' and 'women'. I couldn't spell certain words that should be really simple to spell. I mixed up letters like "M" and "W" and "d" and "b".

My seventh grade English teacher could tell I was struggling because every time she asked me to read something out loud to the class, my face would turn really red and it would take me at least five minutes to make it through one sentence. It was terrible. And on top of all that, I have a slight case of autism where I am really shy around people.

But, see, my mom doesn't know about my dyslexia. As a matter of fact, it's gotten worse as I grew older probably because I've never really liked to tell anyone about it. First of all, it's embarrassing to tell a teacher or an adult that I can't read, especially because little babies are more literate than I am. And second of all, since I have that mild case of autism that makes me rather shy, I am afraid to even talk to an adult, or anyone for that matter.

"Eleina, talk to me!" She scolded and I snapped back to real time.

"Mom, I'm really sorry. I told you, it won't happen again." I really wish I could stand up to her because the more I act scared, the more she's going to mistreat me. It's just, I'm already getting mistreated at school by other kids, I just want to be able to have somewhere that I can go and not be treated like crap. Usually home is the place for that, but not in my home.

"Stop telling me it won't happen again and prove to me that it will. Now, I have work to do, you can go." She gestured her hand for me to leave.

I turned around and walked away.

"Wait, actually..." My mom stopped me. "Eleina, why don't you ever have friends over?"

I shut my eyes tightly, trying not to cry. I stood with my back still facing her. "I don't have any friends, and i dont need any." I continued walking, not caring about what my mom may say next.

**

Once i reached my bedroom, I shut the door and collapsed onto my bed. I laid there for ten minutes before realizing that tomorrow's Monday and I have school.

I walk to school every morning, alone because I have no friends to meet up with. My mom works really early in the morning so by the time I wake up, she's long gone.

I'm always left to make sure I wake up at the right time. Make sure I make myself a good breakfast -which is always cereal. Make sure I do the dishes before leaving. Make sure I'm on schedule. Take a shower, get dressed and then I'm off to school...

I'm always alone. Which is why I think I have a problem talking to people. No matter who the person is, whether they're my relative or someone I've known my whole life, I just can't talk to them. Not even one word. Not even "hello".

But then again, I do go to school with a bunch of snobs who think its okay to make of me because I don't say one word during the whole school day. So I think you can maybe understand why I don't ever speak to people. I'm afraid that they're going to judge me because that's what everyone does when they find out I don't talk a lot. They automatically assume something of me.

I wish I could tell people that I don't like to speak. Then maybe everyone would leave me alone. Or maybe they wouldn't leave me alone. Maybe they'd make fun of me even more. I wish I knew what to do...