Art Class

Opening

This is a pretty short opening, yikes! Hopefully I'll be able to right longer. Hopefully

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Sincerely,

WindiyBooks

You could say I am one of the loners at school. I've no friends, no one to talk to, hang out with. My sorrowful loneliness is added to the fact that my mother is a drunken, rude, evil witch. She wasn't always like this though, she was very sweet. My mother, Lorann, lost her husband, my dad, to a plane crash. A sad way to go out, but apparently he was flying with someone who didn't have a license, nor proper flight training. She took it hard, worse than I did. My grandma was the one to plan the funeral since my mom was just too drunk to even walk. She didn't even show up to the funeral, bringing in a pathetic excuse that she didn't believe in funerals. My grandma saw how much my mother changed and tried to get my out of there but my mom somehow still won custody over me. Since my grandma sued her, I think the judge assumed she was trying to destroy my family. They didn't believe that the beatings already began since I had no markings to prove it surprisingly.

I still live in a very nice home, a rich one in the community. I think we are going to lose it soon though, my mom can't keep up with the bills and payments. Despite this, she still had a very high paying job. Somehow remained sober enough to do it. I can't say that I'm not proud because I am for her being able to do that, but I'm not proud of her parenting skills right now. It became worse when I told her I thought I liked boys. I was about twelve at that time, so I didn't know what was so wrong with it.

"Mom!" I cried, "Stop, please!"

She slapped my face for the third time, the stinging pain lingered. "You will be an abomination if you think such things!" She held. Did I forget to mention she was highly religious?

"But, Mom" I cried once more, "I don't know!" She slapped me harder than before, the burning pain brought me to my knees as I held my cheek. She just walked off.

I remembered just sitting there, not knowing who I actually was, where my mother was. Being nine and losing your father to something so tragic is unsettling, hard. Losing your mother to a monster is worse. You feel sorrow and sharp pain, a crack in your heart. I wanted her back, I wanted my father back. Luckily some days I still visit my grandma, although she is in a home so I can't sleep over like I used to. She was always there for me. I don't know what I would have done without her.

School doesn't seem much different. I did have friends, but they got me caught up in drugs and it was the worst thing I could have done to myself. I got addicted and nearly overdosed. Luckily one of them took the blame of doing this to me. I think he was scared that he'd get caught with some other things he was doing so he just turned himself in for that. I was set free and never went around those people again.

"Hey, c'mon, you'll be fine. Just take it." He insisted so much I just had too.

Has I snorted, a wave of sensation fell over me. It already felt good, and I couldn't wait for more.

"Man, that's great." I said with a slight chuckle.

"We got this for all of us so keep your share," he chuckled back.

I began taking more, making sure to keep within safe limits. I sighed with relief while I just sat.

Now I just go to school alone, usually sitting by myself. The old, cracked, rickety picnic tables in the front of our school was always the first place I went to, whether it was gracefully warm, or dreadfully cold. I sat there, sketchbook in hand, and just drew. My favorite thing to draw were superheroes. I love making them have long, beautiful capes, ripped chests, hard abs, you name it. I was always one for a jock type of guy. Nothing I wouldn't give to have a man like that.

I wish there were guys like that at my school, but all of them seems to be homophobic, racist, and just flat out rude. They'd always pick on me when I wanted to be left alone. One of the problems with being in a mildly small school is that mostly everyone knows you, no matter how quiet and secretive you think you are.

"Hey, bozo!" a man yelled. Was bozo really the best he could come up with?

"Where the Hell is my money, man?" He grabbed me, pushing me to a nearby locker.

"I-I don't have it," I stutter, fear taking me over, making me seem I was dead.

"Bad mistake, dude," he threw me a pretty good distance away before taking everything out of my bag. My lunch money slowly drifted to the ground.

"We got a liar, boys" he reached down to grab the money, "Teach him a listen." His stern voice commanded his group. I turned into a punching bag.

Looking back, he got suspended for this. The group was just given a firm talk. I was glad to have him out of my life, and at least that was just a one time thing.

Now, I don't get bullied anymore. I was always safe just drawing, no one seemed to pay attention when I did. Nothing seemed to exist when I drew. It really was my escape. Others had music, reading, writing, and I had my small pencil, and lengthy sketchbook.

When I'm not at home or at school, I'm either working at my local diner or I walk to this amazing hill. Cliche, I know. Despite that, I seemed to always go there. Again, it had this cliche setting. A nice oak tree, beautiful flowers, a clear view of the town, everything you could ask for. I loved putting down a beach towel and lie there. Sometimes I even take a nap. I chuckle to myself when I ever I think about that. It'd be embarrassing to be up there and have a family wake me up to make sure I was okay. I can imagine it now.

"Mommy? Is that man okay?" A little girl asks, seemingly worried.

"We'll check sweetie, go play with your brother." The mother says, shooing her daughter away.

The woman pokes my side with her foot, leaning down to wiggle me. "Sir, are you okay?" she asks, shaking me some more.

My eyes slowly open, everything being a blur. I stretch and yawn to the fresh air. After realizing I fell asleep, I quickly get up and apologize.

"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." I say, grabbing my things. She nods her head, helping me. I walk down the hill to my home, my home to a witch.

I chuckle to myself with the added last part. I seem to be happy, honestly, but I'm not. Sometimes I just want to die. I feel alone sometimes, and it's extremely awful. I end up sleeping in my bed in a ball, protecting everything. Tomorrow is a new school year. I can make it, I'm sure.