Property of the Bad Boy

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Introduction:

I plopped down into the soft comforter and firm (but relaxing) mattress. I inhaled the familiar scent as the blues, greens, and whites of my room engulfed me. My mom, sister, and I had just arrived home from our trip to the beach house, a weekend getaway that we had needed right before school started.

I enjoyed my few moments of pure silence before the bickering broke out. It was a night time ritual to hear my parents fighting in just the room next door, but that never made it any easier to listen to. I shouldn't say bickering though because it was not two people arguing, it was my father yelling at my mother over the stupidest things that I still fail to comprehend how they're her fault.

I lugged my laptop out from underneath my bed and turned on netflix. Ah. My very own serene getaway from the world. I turned on Pretty Little Liars and continued to watch from where I'd left off.

I started to hear a banging and I turned the volume up more. Yelling, I cranked it up several more notches. Then I heard crying. I was about to turn it up more but it wasn't the familiar crying of my mother, occasional sobs muffled by her hand as she tried to hold it in. It was high pitched, not wailing but it was still there as my name was called in between cracks in the voice.

I pulled my ear buds out and opened my door. Sure enough my little sister stood there in the doorway, red-eyed with snot dribbling down her lip. I pulled her in and shut the door quickly as if the act needed to be silent and unseen.

Chelsea is 9 years old and has to put up with a drugged up older brother, a sister who prefers to keep herself locked away from the world, a mom who I question the sanity of, and our father, an angered douchepants who needs to grow a pair and deal with his own problems so he can take care of his family. But no. I'm left to take care of my sister, not that I mind, I'm just making a point.

She snuggled up into my comforter and I gave her both earbuds to the pair I'd been using before. I got another pair out and plugged them into another socket. I exited my mystery-filled haven and began to search through the listings until we settled on Mulan. Her tears began to dry and she soon fell asleep. I, on the otherhand, wasn't as lucky. I heard everything from the start of the fight to the quiet sobs from my mother as she was in her room after my father had stormed out of the house.

Damn these paper thin walls and my dysfuntional family.

I woke up to my beeping alarm and an empty bed. No doubt my little sister had woken up and returned to hers in the middle of the night and was now on the bus to school. I climbed out of bed and pulled on a pair of white, high waisted shorts and a light blue and dark grey, flowy top. A pair of sandals, my bag, and a quick brush through the hair accompanied by some light mascara sent me through the door.

I decided to walk to the hell hole of a prison otherwise known as high school. I entered the jungle and immediately scurried off to my locker. Before I could reach it, however, I was tackled by my absolute best friends in the world. Well, for the record, they were really my only friends unless a couple of people I'd had as partners in classes who I was polite enough with. I smiled widely as I hugged Heather and Roxy.

Heather had mousy brown hair along with deep, chocolate eyes. She was petite but not to the point where it defined her, she was just slightly shorter than most girls. Though not legally diagnosed, she definitely had a twinge of OCD in her. She was the brilliant one. She aced all her classes and was planning to go to an ivy league. She was a shoe-in for Valedictorian and she was definitely eccentric enough to show it. Very out-going and surprisingly loud when she wanted to be.