I wake up to the sound of my sister yelling at me.
and you sleep on the floor like a rat! Why cant my parents just throw you in that basement of ours, because youre always in there anyways! she screams.
Mimi, not now. Ive got a headache.
You always have a headache!
Mimi is my sibling. She is younger than me by a year, and she hates me. Shes a spoilt brat if Ive ever saw one, and nothing in the world can change her greed for being pretty and popular.
I force myself to get up, despite it being 5:00 in the morning. It is a school day, but I normally head out at 8:30, so I dont really see the point in waking up this early.
I should tell dad about you sleeping in the basement, she says, while stepping on my leg.
One; ow. Two; dont you dare, I say, my voice deep in anger. I would rather sleep on the floor of my sisters bedroom every night without a blanket than sleep in the basement.
My head immediately starts to throb, and I have to clench my teeth from screaming. Might as well save my breath, I tell myself, because my parents will do nothing about it. Nothing.
Get off the floor, you rat!
I get up, spreading my hands out either side of me to balance myself, like I am a small bird, and I want to set off from the clutches of my evil parents. I wish I could.
Move it, she says, pushing me.
I tumble to the wall, and my head bangs against it. The pain is worse now, like a hammer going crazy in it, but I still keep my mouth closed.
She goes to her bathroom, and I just look through my small pile of clothes, tucked neatly at the back of Mimis walk-in closet. I find myself a pair of jeans and a white shirt that has Be Happy printed in golden letters.
Yeah, right. You could never be happy if you were in my shoes.
I strip myself quickly and put them on. They fit nicely, because when I go out, I must look normal, and my scars and bruises cant show.
I get out after half an hour, because if I walk into her room first, shell think Ive been snooping, while in reality, shes the one who breaks every single possession I get.
I walk in to see her brushing her fair silky hair, and her emerald green eyes dart to my normal black ones.
What are you staring at? she says, with a smug look on her face. She always wants to find the perfect way to prove that Im jealous of her.
Of her snobby princess attitude? I think not.
I shake my head and walk into the bathroom. I brush my jet black hair and brush my teeth too.
When I walk into her room again, the pure white curtains of the room have been drawn open. We share, if sleeping on the floor and owning nothing can count as share, a bedroom. The walls are painted white with pink stripes, a big white double bed in the middle of the room.
On it right now, are about a dozen outfits, all sorts of colours and sizes. There must have been hundreds of outfits in her closet, if not thousands. Like I said, she's spoilt. I only have a few outfits, but all of them don't show an inch of skin.
Because skin showing would mean a scar or a bruise showing.
"What am I going to wear?" she says in exasperation.
"Clothes." I say flatly.
"Yes, but what? These were two seasons ago, and Louisiana Rock just announced that ruffles are in! I've got none!"
YOU ARE READING
The Electric Runaway
Science FictionParents can be abusive. But one pair took it too far. After electrocuting her, she runs away in the city of East Bridge, which was once a part of London. She finds a latch, but where does it take her?