I woke up with pain all over again. Waking up for the final time, but the total of 5 times waking up. I hated those stupid lucid dreams.
I heard my phone go off with my alarm ring tone "bulls in the bronx" go off. Hearing his voice soothed me. Too bad I will never be able to meet him. For once I just wanted to have a normal family, or at least hug him. But it's 5 in the morning, and I have to start my stupid day in high school... I just wish I wouldn't have to go.
I turned off the alarm clock as I rolled off the bed. I slowly and quietly went to the bathroom shutting the door slowly. I flicker the light on and stare at myself in the mirror.
I look just like him. My hair color and texture. The shape of my eyes and the color. The tone of my skin. My body structure, but having the arms amd thighs of my mother.
She gave my face structure, round with high cheek bones. Full lips. Thickness in hair. I sometimes wish I looked just like my dad. I want nothing to do with mother anymore.
From what my grandma told me, I should really hate my mom... All I feel is sorry. Apparently, she met my dad at a random party by being invited by a friend. She had a wild time. Slept with him, and even though they used a condom I was the accident that happened. Because my mom never saw my dad again (and embarrassed by the fact that she was pregnant) she had me and dumped me at grandma's house. For 16 years I've been stuck here. One day she came back and finally told me who my dad was. "Vic Fuentes" she said. I searched up his name and found out he sings in a band called "Pierce the Veil." She told me to never tell anyone, so I kept my mouth shut. Growing up I saw more features of him and wanted to tell someone, but they would have seen me crazy. Because of my mom's side being hispanic, she was supposed to be married and then have kids. For her behavior, and getting pregnant, I never was shown love like all my other cousins were. I was alone for almost 8 years then my mom dropped off my little brother one October night. It's been me and him alone for 8 years.
I wash up and go back into my room. I take off the big gray shirt and see the bruises on my stomach. I touch one softly and whimper softly. I grab my dad's band shirt and put it on slowly. I grabbed some black skinny jeans an old friend let me have. I looked myself in the mirror and took a big breath in.
I grabbed my black backpack saying, "Another year and a half and I'm leaving... somehow..."
