A swift kick to my left ribcage sent me to the ground breathless. Another to the head and I blacked out.
When I woke up my eye slammed open. I say eye because my other eye was swollen shut and puffy as well as that half of my face. I took in my surroundings and tried to breathe but all I got was a short, shallow huff and a wheeze as I exhaled.
"You took a rough beating this time young lady," the voice was familiar but I couldnt pinpoint it, "you have to stop picking fights, your parents can't afford all of these hospital visits." My vision was still fuzzy but I soon recognized my regular nurse in my regular hospital. Well, regular sense we moved to avoid these situations.
I forced my other eye open and rubbed the clean one trying to regain at least half of my vision. My step-mom waited, arms crossed with that look on her face. The one she always gives me in these situations. I huffed and clenched my fist trying not to project the pain in my chest.
"What is wrong with you? Why do have to cause these fights?" She is always bickering at me. It's always my fault. "You don't even know what happened- okay? Lay off me for once!" I wheezed (pretty pathetically I must add but it was enough to make her sit down)
Then came my dads look. "Allie, why do you have to do this to me?" A small ahem from my Stepmom caught him, "sorry- us. What is your reasoning? Explain why we should keep paying your hospital bill?" He finished. You should keep paying it because there is a reason and because you're my parents (if that's what you want to call it)
I am- well actually I don't know what I am per say but I can read people in a sense. I know what they're thinking, how they feel and even what they're going to do shortly before they do it. My brain works at 100 miles per hour. That's why I fight so much, I freak people out and I try to stop things that I can't stop. Just like the death of my mother.
