The Electric Runaway

Chapter 1

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!"