Let's Get Real.

Fight

I walk down the stairs thinking of every life moment exactly the same as this one. The fight starts with my Dad interrupting a friendly conversation, me then using the best of my ability to act as if it doesn't matter my parents don't think that I can think, and ending with silence and no help from Mom. I turn on the light in the hall and move towards my temporary door-less, bug-infested room. I bite my lip fighting the tears forming in my eyes. Don't cry. Be brave. Be brave. I grab my purple writing notebook giving me a sense of peace just by picking it up. My notebook is the only thing that listens to me or is my friend. Other than my one friend at school who can relate. {INSERT SOMEONE WHO RELATES HERE}. That's about it. I search what is supposed to be my table. The table is a 2x4 table piled with my family's crap. I frantically search for my writing pen in which inspires and lifts spirits. Gone. I should've know. A tear forms and drops on the 50-year-old cloth roughly draped other the table and sinks into it. I settle on my bed with a "Eldorado, Casino, Hotel, Reno" pen. As I am reminded with my parents fighting upstairs I realize my only place for privacy. I turn around and shut the door to the bathroom and sit on the toilet with my head propped up by my hands, and my back hunched over. Knock. Knock. Knock. "Are you going to be long?!" I just got here! "No." I reply plainly. I hoist up my pajama bottoms and look into the mirror. My bright blonde curls fight to be freed from the hair elastic I tied them in. I wear a Michael Jackson t-shirt, light green pj bottoms, and some stained socks. On my face, I wear a light coat of mascara placed on my long eyelashes with some hurried-on-foundation which was attempting to cover up major acne. I open the door, sit down on my bed, and begin writing. So, here we are. The author and the reader. Me and you. My name is Alli. Aww, look at us! Breaking the fourth wall in the first chapter! GO US!