I woke up early the next morning, it was Saturday and my mom was still asleep up in her room. My stomach rumbled angrily at me for food so I went to the kitchen to search for some. We didn't really have much food, or much of anything, my mom couldn't work because she was crazy. My biological father paid for rent each month and the government payed for food and stuff. Sometimes I feel angry at my father for not being around to make my mom better, we don't need him.
I found Pizza Pops in the freezer and warmed them up in the oven, we don't have a microwave which would have been significantly quicker. I asked my mother if we could get a microwave once out of curiosity but she yelled at me asking if I wanted to eat that month. I didn't ask about the microwave again. When my food was done I went to watch cartoons in the living room while I ate.
YOU ARE READING
Small hands
Teen FictionFrom the eyes of a boy named Ben with his head in the clouds the first year of high school isn't what he expected. (GRAPHIC NOVEL UNDRAWN)
