I rinsed my face and looked at the person staring back at me in the mirror. His eyes were sunken in, creating a look like he hasn't slept in days. His features were shadowed on the pale skin of his face. The lips were chapped from constant biting and coal black hair hung in strands on his forehead. I sighed, wiped my face, and threw the towel to my right, not caring where it landed. I lifted a weak arm and turned off the light to climb in bed.
The room was giant, casting shadows on every wall. The king bed made it feel so lonely and cold. The giant window made it feel like someone was watching, even though I was on the second floor. I hated this room. I hated this house. I turned and pulled the covers over my face, drifting into sleep.
The alarm clock blared next to my bed to wake me up. I hit it to turn it off and sat up in my bed, staring out the window. The property seemed to go on forever. I yawned and rubbed the grogginess out of my eyes to head downstairs for breakfast.
I walked to the table silently while food was being put on it in front of me like a buffet. Pancakes, eggs, bacon, sausage...
"Good morning, Phil," one of the maids greeted me as I sat in the chair furthest from my father who was giving me a glaring look every so often atop his newspaper. I have a halfhearted smile back and filled my plate with food, shovelling it into my mouth.
"Your report cards came today," my mother said to me and my two sisters. I rolled my eyes and looked at my food, losing my appetite.
"Bet Phil failed, as always," my older brother said. I didn't bother responding. My father chuckled.
"Three classes," my mother explained. "History, english, science."
"Idiot..." my brother whispered in my ear. Again, I didn't bother responding.
She read off my sisters all passing grades and congratulated them. They gave me "I'm better than you" looks.
"Why did we have him?" My father said quietly to my mother, not meaning for me to hear. But I did. I dropped my fork and stormed upstairs to my room. I slammed the door and kicked the bed, angrily sitting down. I was mad, but I didn't cry. This always happens. I quickly got dressed and brushed my hair. Storming out the front door, I disregarded my family giving me disapproving looks and stepped off the porch. I put in the code to open the metal gate at the end of the driveway and walked down the street, going anywhere but here. I mindlessly walked into shops, occasionally picking up a candy bar or something. My feet started hurting so I sat on a bench, watching people walk by and shop. I looked at the sky, spotting grey clouds moving towards where I was sitting.
"Shit," I muttered. My house was four blocks away. I checked the weather on my phone, thunderstorms until three. I leaped off the bench, stuffing my phone into my back pocket. Half a block later it started to rain. Not a sprinkle, but a complete downpour. I couldn't walk home in this, no way. I pulled on my hood and covered my face with my arm, looking around. There was nothing around me but houses. I ran under a tree on the edge of a forest, seeking dryness. Thunder rolled down the street causing me to jump. Trees are bad in a storm. I moaned. There was nothing else I could do and nowhere I could go, so I took a couple steps away from the trunk where I was still shaded by the branches. The rain let up so it was only a sprinkle. I ran for it before it started pouring again.
I ran into a nearby alley when the rain got heavier. I might as well stay a while. My eyes scanned the walls full of paint. This was definitely not a good place to be right now. I checked my phone, 2:45. A bus stop was down the street a ways, but I had given my pocket money to a homeless man. I hit my head on the wall and let out a moan.
"How much money you got?" A voice echoed down my spine. I turned to see a gun pointed right at my forehead.
