Every Book

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Kira Thompson. The freak. The lesbian. The outcast. The shamed. I go by many names, but loved is not one of them. When you live your life in an abusive home, you stop trying to be happy. I have 9 older brothers and I live with all of them plus my mom. The oldest is Daniel, he's 21.
I don't know why and how we all are in the same house. Oh yeah, because apparently I am supposed to be 'mature enough' to be willing to sleep on the tile floor. But, instead of that, I wait until mom goes to sleep and I bring out the coats we keep in the hallway closet and sleep on those. Then I wake up 2 hours before anyone else and start getting ready for school. I usually wear hand-me-downs, from the boys nice enough to give me close that no sane person would call decent. They have permanent stains, holes, ripped, pieces missing, and are 5 sizes too big. I wear huge combat boots from Alex (7th oldest,) with my pants as tight as they'll go and tucked into them. I struggle to find things that will fit the dress code.
I know that every book is supposed to start with something inside the person's head, not an almost life story.

I woke up to the microwave beeping at 4 AM again. I jumped immediately into action. I shoved the coats I slept on into the forgotten cupboard under the stairs. I then ceased the beeping of the microwave and got on the clothes I had picked out the day before. I shoved on the ripped jeans and red polo with 4 stains of it. It was an old paintball shirt. I then took 4 pairs of wool socks and put two into the the toe of my combat boots, the other having holes all over, getting put onto my feet. I grabbed my faded satchel and ran out of the house. I tucked my ratty hair behind my ears. My hair was so greasy, I felt the need to wipe my hand on my pants after tucking. I sprinted the entire mile to Oliver Fleming Middle School. I call it OFMS, like most kids. I ran through the front doors and all the way to the girls locker room. I dropped my bag and pulled back the shower curtains to find a nice, clean, new, fitting spirit shirt. Only 1 time a week I get the luxury of nice clothes. Under the shirt was a pair of kaki pants and new, plain white under garments. I'd have to thank Mrs.Rivera after school today. She's been so kind and supporting. She's also knows that I don't want to report my mom. It's my fault that my mom hates me, I'm still living aren't I? I quickly undress and take my time under the warm water. I wash my hair first with a bottle that Mrs.Rivera left out. My hair is unruly and unable to tame. It's really short in the back and half of my head is not even a fourth of the length of the other side. It's a gorgeous hazel color, Mrs.Rivera assures me. I usually chuckle and say that she's must be joking. My eyes are a piercing green, they also catch the smallest of things. Like where people's hair moves out of place. Or when a blade of grass moves. I've got weird vision though, I can't see well out of my right eye. The good vision is all in the left. I wear huge glasses that have a nerdy scotch tape-rap around the bridge, mostly from people nocking them off and stepping on them. While I wash myself, I think about the dance that is happening tonight. Alex is making me go. I know that by the end of the school day, I'll have some sort of injury that people will stare at. Possibly a black eye. I finish washing and Mrs.Rivera walks in. She has gorgeous black, curly hair. Her eyes as a light blue color and her skin is a light shade of tan. She wore a black 'YOU'RE ENOUGH' t-shirt and some jeans. Her hair was pulled into two braids, both trailing down her back in wavy lines.
"Hi Kira! Did you sleep well?" She asked handing me a bright blue towel. Her face was warm and kind as I told her about my night.
"Mom shouted at me again. She told me how muck of a disappointment I was and how ugly I am. She then proceeded to back hand me front of the entire family at dinner." I said drying my hair. Mrs.Rivera handed me a brush. I glared at her and she laughed.
"I know, I know, it's impossible." She laughed. I playfully growled and dried my body off.
"Alright Kira, show me the bruise." She said turning me. I huffed and turned. Mrs.Rivera gasped and ran her fingers over the dark purple spot.
"Alright, Kira this is where I draw the line! You can't keep living like this! Look at your bruises and other injuries and tell me you're okay!" She exclaimed in a tone I grew to know not to argue with. I looked down at my broken and abused body and looked back up at her. My eyes started to tear up and I sniffed slightly.
"Mrs.Rivera-" I started.
"Nope, Mrs.Rivera ain't gonna cut it. I am Catherine to you. You have been through too much for manners." She interrupted.
"You're right. I'm not okay. I get bullied and abused and neglected. I don't remember the last nice thing my mother has said to me. I can't remember the last time I eat a real dinner. I get the scraps that even the dogs won't eat! But I can't report my mom. If I report my mom, I have to live with Daniel. I-Catherine, why do you look so mad at me? I'm doing what you asked." I said shoving my new clothes on.
"I am hurt. You think I'm going to let you live with that vile creature that is your brother?!? And after all I've done for you?!? That hurts me to my core." She yelled at me. I flinched away from her as she did.
"I-I'm sorry. I've just-no ones ever been this kind to me. I wasn't sure if you would want me." I squealed, tears rolling down my cheeks. Catherine looked at me and brushed my tears off. I flinched again as she pulled my into a hug. I tensed for a second before rapping my arms around her.
"Kira honey, I will always welcome you into my home. I need to report your mother. I will give you three days to do it with me or I'm doing it myself. Deal?" She whispered seriously into my hair. I started to sob into her shirt, the realization that someone cares was overtaking my body. We stood in that locker room for I don't know how long, I just remember someone coming in quite a while later. We broke apart quickly and I wiped the tears off my face in order to see the last thing I want to see: Shirley with her goons Lacy and Aubrey.
"Well well well, little miss bruises has the blues." Shirley barked, her unnaturally curly blonde hair bouncing. Her voice was a terrible, high-pitched shriek. Her goblins fake laughed behind her. Catherine took a step forward and put an arm in front of me to keep me back.
"Mrs. James, I don't think that you would be laughing if I gave you a detention for bullying another student. Would you?" She asked Shirley in her teacher tone. "And what are you doing here so early?" She continued.
"I get here early for tutoring." Shirley said, rolling her eyes at the question.
Cathrine scoffed.
"You have no right to roll your eyes at me, young lady. Detention, Friday. After school for three hours." She said coldly. Shirley's jaw dropped.
"B-b-but you can't-" Shirley started.
"Oh yes I can. And if you don't come, office referral. If you're late, same thing. Have a nice morning girls. If you only came to bully Kira then you can leave." Catherine said pointing to the locker room door. The girls grumbled under their breathes as they walked out. Catherine smirked then turned to me.
"Kira, lets go to my classroom so you can get some sleep I one of the bean bags. You have bags under your eyes. Maybe I can sneak you some food from the cafeteria." She said grabbing my things and then taking my hand, leading me down the hall to her classroom. Room number 113. I walked in the familiar doors and looked around. I looked over her perfectly organized desk and to her neat table groups. In the back corner, 5 bean bags and 3 bookshelves. I looked at the bean bags and decided on the biggest one, it's purple. I sat and then curled up and yawned as Catherine chuckled and covered me with a blanket.
"What?" I asked her with droopy eyes.
"You act like a cat." She replied. I smiled lazily.
"This is how I sleep back home." I said as I closed my eyes and drifted off.

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Hello every one! This is my first story, so please feel free to leave comments ridiculing me. Good or bad. Thank you so much!!!

Happy Shipper.

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