A Lot of Time

Chapter One of Many

On March 8 of the 16th year of my distressing life, I was found to be a worrier. My parents and siblings confronted me about my issues and decided I needed help. Not necessarily therapy, though I would've preferred watching Dr. Phil and figuring out my own problems, more like "family time." Oh yes, we played board games, card games, watched movies, went on walks, we did it all. Don't get me wrong I love my parents, but sometimes they love me too much. Since I'm their only girl, they decide I get smothered. My four other brothers decided it's fun to see me get crushed in their love for my normality.
We are known as the "perfect" family. We have the picture perfect house, picture perfect jobs, picture perfect lives. Oh, minus me. I haven't been much "perfection" lately. The entire town knows it. They all know I'm madder then the Mad Hatter, and crazier then Evan Peters in season one of American Horror Story. It's not that I've been driven mad, it's just that I have issues. Real, technical, bad, I need a doctor, issues. Sometimes I'm liked by my only friends, McKenna and Amara, the other times they just want to shoot me in the head. For reasons I don't know.

"Mabel, you need to get dressed." My mother woke me. Summer mornings normally consist of me sitting in the living room with my elder brother, Marshall, and watching scary movies until my younger brothers and parents get back home from the pool. This outburst of her sudden awakening confused me. My head turned and I squinted into my pillow. "Mabel!" She called again from downstairs. I groaned loud enough for her to hear, managing to drag myself downstairs.

It's about eight o'clock on a Saturday morning in the summer; something isn't right. As I approached the bar, I saw my three younger brothers sitting and eating. "Why are we waking up so early?" The awful taste of my morning breath made me cough. My mother was humming and scrambling eggs, "We," motioning her spatula to us, "are going to the park." The twins, whom are both 5, squeaked in excitement. The third eldest, Max, sat up a bit straighter. He's only 7, but he's very mature. I groaned and grabbed the carton of orange juice. "Is not going an option?" Before I could drink my mother took the carton, "No. Come on Mabel, it's just a few hours." I turned around and slapped my feet to my room.

Marshall was leaning on my doorframe and tapping his nails against the fine black wood. "What do you want, Marsh?" I call him this because it's his "street name" and he doesn't answer to Marshall. "They have news to tell us." He chuckled and went back into my room. "What?"
"Oh don't tell me you don't know they're pregnant again? Well mom at least."
"Wow, really?" He nodded and sat down on my desk chair that sat in front of my mirror. "I think they want another girl who isn't delusional." I shrugged, "Delusion is my specialty. Mother doesn't like a lot of my interests, she wants a girl to relate to. A girl who would be able to tell her if she has a boyfriend, or if she needs advice." He nodded and threw himself on my messed up bed.

I grabbed my clothes for the day and went to the bathroom. Showering is important, except I can live without it. My mirror is big and you can't look in the direction of that wall and not see myself. I moved my face closer to it. Pointing out imperfections. My brown, almost black, eyes are giant. My lips are a thin line, and my hair is a dark red. Red; because my mother decided I can do what I want with it. I stripped off my pajamas and walked into the bipolar fountain. Quickly washing my hair and body, as well as shaving, just because it's summer.

You know the normal girl routine, putting on clothes, makeup, throwing hair out your face, etc. that's basically it except I like my hair messy and in my face. I am a mess. Or as the girls on Instagram would say, "I'm a nightmare dressed as a daydream." From that stupid Taylor Swift song and such.

I came out of the bathroom just as the twins, Martin and Milton, walked in. In case you haven't already noticed my siblings all have M names. Mabel, Marshall, Milton, and Martin. Personally I think I have an old lady name, but one day I will be an old lady and the name will suit me perfectly.

Marshall was still laying on my bed once I walked into my room, except this time he has on khaki shorts and by the look of it his Linkin Park t-shirt. Linkin Park is pretty amazing, Easier to Run just reminds me of me. "Get out of my room," I barked. He just shook his head, "We're about to leave anyways." we got called for, the twins ran before us, and Max just walked in between Marshall and I.

We piled into our van. Marshall and I sit in the the two upper seats and the twins, plus Max, sit in the very back. My father was driving and my mother was fixing her makeup. It was quiet. "Can you turn on the radio?" I questioned whilst crossing my legs. Marshall watched mother's movements as she reached for the knob of the radio. Nothing good was on, but it beat the deafening silence.