Unfortunate.

2 ~ Mornings

*RING, RING, RING* There goes my alarm, to wake me up to go to school. I open my eyes and all I see is darkness. I feel the tears on my face, making me realize I had another bad dream. I've been having bad dreams for years now and they never seem to go away for too long. I feel the cold on my toes and decide to put socks on. My room is a mess and I hate it. I don't have the motivation to clean it anymore, I haven't in a long time anyway. I step over things and almost trip over piles of dirty clothes. I find something on my dresser that wasn't there yesterday. A note. "I'm sorry about last night. I made you some breakfast, it's on the dining room table. -Dad" I appreciate everything my Dad does for me, really. But I've heard him say sorry too many times and I'm sick of it. I crumble up the note in my hand and throw it against my wall with all my might. I search my room for clean clothes, putting on whatever I can find. I go to the bathroom, closing the door behind me. I brush my hair and wash my face. I walk downstairs to see my mum passed out on the couch. The liquor bottle is on the floor next to her, mostly empty. It figures, she always drinks after a fight. Actually, she always drinks, all the damn time. I walk into the dining room and see my food there. It's still hot, which brings a smile to my face. I walk into the kitchen and clean up all the liquor bottles. I throw them in the trash, along with any other trash I find. I clean the counter, because it will stay filthy if I don't. I put leftovers on a plate for my mom and then I pour her some orange juice. Orange juice is her favorite beverage, except for liquor. I put it on the table and yell for her to get up. She groans and falls off the couch. The bottle that was there before tips over and spills the leftover beer on the floor. Mom notices this and says "I'll clean that up later." She says that now, but later it will be me cleaning it up. She is always in a good mood when she has a hangover. So I try to keep it that way for as long as I can. I eat my food quickly so I have time to make the bus and I don't want to give Mum the chance to talk to me. I go upstairs to get my book-bag and other stuff I need for school. After that, I brush my teeth and I'm almost out the door when someone stops me. "Honey" says a male voice. I look forward and my Dad is looking at me. He is in his suit, having his hair slicked back with grease. He reminds me of a man from 1970, who's still stuck in that generation. "Another interview?" I ask him.

He looks at me and smirks. "Yeah, I think I got this one. And I actually like it." Dad is always real honest with me, it's one of his best qualities. I smile at him and ask for a ride. We moved like a million times, so now my school is farther away from my house. He has time before his current job, so he agrees to take me. I love rides with my Dad, we always talk about life, politics, the economy, what's going on, and what not. I try not to talk about Mum, it hurts him too much. Surprisingly, she used to be a good mom. She used to take care of me and helped me through life. But she changed. Right after she lost my baby sister.