The next day I woke up with my makeup all over my face and pillow. I slugged to the bathroom and started to wash it off. I then went back to my room to get changed into my favorite top and jeans. After that, I went down stairs for breakfast. I grabbed a slice of bread and put it in the toaster. I got down a plate and got out the butter. Then I pulled a knife out of the draw and almost on magically the toast popped up. I picked up the knife and stared buttering it. Popping it into my mouth, I walked to the living room and I turned on the television. I started watching a random show. I was halfway through the toast, when I heard the door open. I put down the plate and went into the hall. Standing in the hall was my mother carrying about a million bags of shopping. I rushed to help her, but she refused. I tried to go out to the car but she blocked me.
"You can't leave the house" she said.
"Mom are you okay?"
"I'm fine" she snapped.
I jumped back. This was not the woman who raised me. She may look like it but she acts like someone else. She was scaring me. The only explanation I could think of was that's she's insane.
YOU ARE READING
Speak of the Devil
Teen FictionAli (Al) has several disorders, she is dyslexic, has anger issues, is depressed 80% of the time and has a eating disorder. In short she is called messed up by a lot of people, even herself. She hated everyone and everything for all of her life, all...
