The outsiders messages

6

April 12th, 2009
ELENA's POV

"Elena! We're going to be late." My dad yells.
I finish tying my shoes and skip down the steps, greeted by Ellen and my smiling father.
"Ready" I squeak, and grab my fathers hand. Ellen gives me a mean look, I knew she never really liked me that much. We walk out the door and start down the street, I hear screaming as we walk past Grace Sanders' house, probably her parents fighting again. Ellen shakes her head as we continue down the road. We walk around the block to the open house. As we approach I see Ellen's big, fat, ugly face on a for sale sign. We walk in and my dad begins to help her set up.
   Instead of walking around aimlessly, I decide to pitch in and pick some flowers to put in the vase. I skip outside to the garden and begging to pick roses. When I have a bunch I walk in to put them in the vase in the living room. My dad is upstairs making the bed, while Ellen is cleaning the kitchen.
   I walk to place the flowers in the vase, when I trip and fall into the table. Instead of asking if I was okay, Ellen's immediate thought was the broken vase on the floor.
"Look what you did!" She half screamed, so my dad wouldn' come downstairs.
"You worthless piece of shit! Can you do anything right!"
She begins to pick up the pieces in a hurry, as my eyes blur with tears and anger comes over me.
"You.. you bitch!" I stammer, surprised at my own words.
That was the first time she hit me, hard in the face. Not a slap in the mouth, a hard full out punch in the cheek. Than a few kicks in the stomach, while whisper-yelling how worthless I was.
Footsteps from the steps interrupts it, and Ellen picks me up and pushes me outside so my dad wouldn't notice. When she shuts the door I linger, listening to what she had to say.
"What happened to her?" My dad asked.
"She tripped and started to cry, she's okay now. Probably picking flowers" Ellen replies.
"You're a good mother" my dad says, kissing her cheek.
I turn and run, running all the way home. I'm crying, and Ellen's words dance in my head. I run and run and run, and don't plan on looking back.