Help me......

Fermiliar face

Back to reality:

“So Carla, what do you plan on doing when you leave school?” My auntie Sally asked trying to act like she took an interest in me. “Who cares about school, I’m not going to be here too see it through!” I said bluntly with a hard laugh at the end. “Now Carla don’t joke about stupid shit like that” She snapped. “Aren’t jokes meant to be funny!” I said sarcastically. “Now what would you’re mother say if she heared you saying all this shit!” Sally tutted. My mother… how do I even begin to explain her. She drinks. A LOT. When I was 8 and my dad left her she started hitting me. It went from a little pat on the bum, to slaps across the face. Every little thing she was angry about, she’d take it out on me. “if mum was here… all she’d slur is pour me another glass, it’s not as if she’d care sal!” I bluntly replied. After that the car ride was really awkwardly silent, until we got to the house. I went inside and sat on the couch to have the TV turned off by Sally and she had a “lets talk” look on her face. “so rules!” she stated. “No out later than twelve thirty, no smoking, drinking, drugs and defiantly no sex!” She snapped. I would of argued back but I was missing waterloo road so I swiftly nodded and got back to my program. When I was 12, I fell for this boy, Samuel. He wasn’t a looker I got to admit, but he was hilarious. He made me feel in ways I’d never felt for a boy before. We were best mates, but I fell for him, he fell for me and stuff happened between us. (nothing like that) but we got together and after a month, I caught him with his tongue down my best friends throat. We argued, didn’t speak, he moved in the summer and I never saw him after that. “Aunt Sal can I have twenty quid, I want to go out and get to know this place.” I asked. “Carla, If you want money, you’re going to have to go find a job!” she replied before handing me a note. I then grabbed my Jacket and slammed the door behind me. I walked the streets for ages, looking for work. But there didn’t seem to be any. But I came across a gentleman’s club where a help wanted sign hung in the window. “How bad can it be!” I thought to myself before opening the door. The inside looked like a fun little world, where only the best could attend. Bright luminous coloured disco balls, poles, dancers, pumping music. I watched in awe as I made my way to the bar. “urmm, I’m looking fir the manager?” I sternly said to a man with his back turned to me. “Clive!” he shouted from across the bar before turning around and revealing himself. “oh my gosh.. Carla!” He screamed. How did he know me? “Do I know you?” I questioned cluelessly.