This World is not my Home *Austin Carlile adoption*

-Spencer's POV-

My eyes fluttered open as the annoying beeping sound filled my room. I groaned and looked over to my alarm clock to see the bright red numbers staring right back at me. Sighing, I sat up and rubbed my eyes. I shut my alarm and drug myself out of bed and to my closet. "Another day of school" I though to myself. I shuffled through my closet until I found a suitable outfit.

I stumbled into the washroom and set my clothing next to the sink. I turned towards the mirror and gasped at the sight of myself. My redish-brown hair was tangled in a nest on top of my head while my dull green eyes focused to the purplish bruise that formed on my cheek over night. I lightly pressed on the mark and flinched. I turned away from my distorted figure that reflected in the mirror and started the water.

I stripped out of my clothes and stepped into the shower. The warm water worked wonders on my soar and bruised body. My thoughts wandered to last night, my father was drunk, which wasn't a surprise, he had been getting drunk every day since my mother passed away almost a year ago. I had come home from school and he was angry, more so than usual. He began yelling how it was my fault that my mother died, it was always my fault. His yelling soon turned into one punch, then two, then three, until I finally had the opportunity to run up to my room.

I quickly washed my body and hair cut the shower. I stepped out and dried myself off with my hello kitty towel and got dressed in my torn white shinny jeans and dark blue sweater. I dried my hair and began to do my makeup. I put in a tick amount of foundation to cover the bruise and finished with a thick line of eyeliner and a coat of mascara. I plugged my hair straighter in and ran the iron over my naturally wavy hair.

I exited the steamy washroom and grabbed my navy blue vans, slipping them on and snatched my plain black backpack and began my dangerous journey. I tip-toed down the stairs until I reached the bottom and peered around the corner. I let out a sigh of relief at the sight of my father passed out on the couch. I quietly snuck to the door and left my wretched home.

The cool fall air hit me as I walked out of the house. Typical Michigan weather. I slung my bag over my shoulder and began my walk to my personal hell called Ft. Oak High School. I pulled my iPod out of my backpack and put on Yellowcard and hummed along to Ocean Avenue. The building came into view and I prepared myself for another day.

& Skip School &

I slowly walked up the steps to my house , school was like usual, not paying attentions in class, getting beaten up, skipping lunch and not caring much about anything. Thank god my dad didn't care about my grades or id be dead. I opened the door to reveal an empty house, I walked in and shut the door behind me and began creeping to my room. I was almost to the stairs when I felt a hand grab me by the hair and pull me backwards. Oh god, not again.