Slowly Fading

Keep going

  The next day, I walked down the hot pavement approaching the school. Scabby knees stuck to my pants and a bruise under my eye throbbed. All eyes followed me as I opened the glass door to walk inside. Stepping inside, the door slammed behind me with a loud noise that echoed down the halls. Heads snapped to my direction to observe what caused the disturbance. My cheeks grew hot as I smiled, embarrassed for bringing even more attention to myself.

    Embarrassment aside I carried on with my day by going to my first class, English. Mrs. Arrington noticed my beaten appearance and covered her gasp with a withered old hand. Did she ask me anything about what happen? Nope nada. She simply turned away and gathered the assignments for the rest of the class carrying on like she did not see a thing.

  After English was math. Simple second grade math, adding and subtracting, we had done it a million times before so it was nothing new. My day continued normally but I could tell everyone noticed I was injured. Maybe my excuse of falling on the playground was not believable.

  When the school bell rang I hopped onto the large, mustard yellow, school bus to go home. About fifteen other kids were already in their seat. I decided to take a seat next to the closest person I had for a friend, Skye. She probably does not consider me a friend but we occasionally have conversations. Not a syllable left her lips the entire ride. So I said nothing either.

    As I got off the bus I thanked the bus driver and jumped off the last step. Inside the click clack if my flip flops was amplified by the emptiness of the house. I checked every room to make sure I was alone. His bedroom, empty. My room, empty. Bathroom, empty. Garage, empty. Last but not least, the basement, empty. I was alone for now. With the knowledge the coast was clear I went to the kitchen. Opening the cupboard I saw it mostly empty as usual, my dad does not go to the store very often. All that was left inside was an old bag of stale Cheetos from about a year ago. Better than nothing. I thought to myself as I opened the crinkly old bag. Munching on the snack, I walked to my room careful not to leave a trace of eating because I know he will beat the shit out of me for eating if im not carful. Caution was used because he did not really feed often and when I ate " his food" he was typically furious. Shoving Cheetos in my face made me aware that I had not eaten in a week because with every crumb that settled in my stomach I grew hungrier for more. Tempted to eat the whole bag I stopped to save the rest for a later time. One last chip made its way to my taste buds when a door shut. Somebody else is here.