I stand under the shower faucet, enjoying the heat from the steam wafting up into the air as the hot water hits the cold surface of the tub's slick bottom beneath me. I run my fingers through my hair and rinse out the soap bubbles left behind by the dollar store shampoo that I got yesterday after I left work. The liquid being sprayed on my skin transitioned from a comfortable warmth to a chilling cold, making me try to speed up the rinsing process so I wouldn't have to stand in the stinging bitterness any longer than I had to.

After I finished, I quickly turn the shower nobs. The old, overworked pipeline makes a loud wheeze as it stops the freezing water from pelting down on me. My feet cautiously place themselves onto a rug laying on the floor and I pick up the towel I set out for myself on top of the toilet cover. The fabric's soft fibers gently brush against me as it soaks up all the water resting on the surface of my skin.

I wrap the towel around me, making sure that everything that needed to be was covered in case any spying eyes could potentially be on the lookout. My hand clutches the doorknob, the palm resting upon the metal becoming sweaty and clammy. With the swiftness and subtly of a rampaging cheetah, I clumsily open the bathroom door and rush down the hall to my room, slamming the door shut loudly behind me. Someone could've spotted my drastic efforts, but it didn't come to mind when I committed the daring action and it didn't after either. My heart was pumping blood and adrenaline twice as fast as my frantic breaths, but I didn't care. I was behind a closed door again, safe from the unsuspecting eyes of the watchdogs called my family.

I could hear the resonating shots of a machine gun and frantic stomping of boots crunching against the gravel rocks beneath their feet as they shout commands to their comrades and the bland, informative talk about a presidential candidate debate from a news anchor breaking the sound barrier surrounding my room.

My mind pictured my father sitting in his favorite old, brown recliner, with tattered fabric and numerous old food stains from when me and my brother would sit in it and eat breakfast while watching a movie before our parents got up. The seat cushion will forever have an imprint of my dad's lower half from the years of sitting down, turning on WDBJ7 news and drinking as they discussed insignificant town events and a store getting robbed if it was a big news day. He hasn't changed much over the years, other than obvious aging and a beer belly in progress.

And then there's my brother, Jeremy. He's my fraternal twin who was also my best friend for the longest time, but now that kindred spirit has faded away as we have both became distant teenagers. He locks himself up in his room like it was a crisis bunker, always making sure he had enough junk food and soda in his mini fridge to give any normal person a heart attack. If it wasn't for his heightened metabolism and the fact he's on the school soccer team, his poor snacking habits and gaming lifestyle at home would put him in a far worse state than Dad.

I guess it makes sense that we drifted apart. The older you get, the less fun it becomes to hang out with your siblings, especially one you have nothing in common with. He turned out to be the typical popular jock who indulged in casual gaming sessions with friends online. On the other hand, I became the secluded philosopher who ponders the pain they feel inside by expressing it through their artwork and singing songs that they consider masterpieces to represent the very fibers of their fragile soul. In simple terms, I turned into a nerd that has problems socializing.

I don't regret it, though. While it does sting that my brother and I have gone our separate ways, at least there's comfort in knowing that secluding ourselves have kept us both safe from our father. He's been an alcoholic ever since Mom passed away. That's his way of numbing the pain, but it doesn't always have the wished results. He becomes enraged when he sees us. He always seems to comment that we both have her eyes. The kindness of her emerald green pupils were strong enough to be passed on to us, but it came with a devastating price.

I don't know if he ever remembered the acts he's committed against us. All the empty liquor bottles he's aimed at us, the scratches and bruises that  plagued the surface of our skin, the cruel words that's slithered off his tongue....or if the constant alcohol in his system just makes it all a blurry haze. I've never asked him, so I've never known. He could be drowning his regrets with the same substance that lets them to take a hold of him, or maybe he doesn't even care.

I walk over to my dresser and exert the strength in my arms just enough to get the stubborn drawer pulled out. Without much thought, I snatch a pair of underwear and a bra and use my strength once more to force the drawer back into it's original position. I toss the towel wrapped around me in my dirty clothes hamper, revealing everything that it hid underneath. The shocking icy breeze that wafted against my body made goosebumps rise on my chilled skin and caused my body to let out a stuttered shiver. I swiftly slip on my bra and underwear and a giant over sized sweater I had laying on the floor, hoping it would be enough to keep me safe from the freezing atmosphere of the closed off space.

I grab my journal from my nightstand and the blue, mechanical pencil resting beside it. My body plops down on the bed, resting with my stomach against the firm mattress as my arms force my upper torso at enough of an angle to see the book where I pour all my thoughts, hopes, wishes, desires, anime that I've discovered recently.....everything that could possibly come out of my mess of thoughts that I call a brain.

With the point of my pen gracefully gliding across the page as I write messily onto the paper, I add another entry to my journal.

November 6, 2017

Well, tomorrow will be another Monday. Bullies picking on me, being a loner who sits in the back, and having no friends. Sounds fun. I don't know why I keep thinking that things are going to get better, but for some reason, I'm still holding on. Guess I like the thought of things changing too much to just let it go. I just want to know why it has to be this way. Is it because I crossed that black kitten's path when I was 8? Or because I was born on October 13th? Does cracking a phone screen count as breaking a mirror? It'd just be nice for once if the universe started giving me some answers. Who am I kidding? God was probably drunk when he decided to make me exist. At least that would explain Dad's drinking problem. I wish Mom was still around. She was always the understanding one of the two. She was the glue that held us together, and now that she's gone, everything's falling apart. Then again, maybe she deserves it. She's in a better place, free of all the stress and worry we probably put on her. At least now she can finally take a moment to breathe.

A single tear stain appeared on the paper. My watery eyes stare at the pages before me as I break down into pain stricken sobs...............I miss mom. I just want things to be right again. I want her to be in the kitchen, cooking dinner and allowing all the flavorful scents to fill the house. I want her to give me and my brother some side tasks to help her with like peeling some potatoes or adding in some carrots to a roast. I want to help her out in the yard and tend to the beautiful rose bushes, marigolds, and daisies in her small plot at the front of the house. I want her to hug me and comfort me the way only she could. I just want to see her again. Is that so much to ask?

My urge to write anything else quickly disappeared and I throw the book and pencil back on the nightstand. I bundle up under a flowery quilt that was laying on my bed. My mom made it for me when I was five and purposefully sized the fabric and measured the materials so I wouldn't be able to outgrow it. It was almost as if she was here with me, holding me in her arms and helping me feel safe. Almost......

AAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH! FINALLY! I got it done! I'm not completely confident in my writing skills, but hopefully this is good. To anyone that decides to read this, thank you! This is huge risk for me to try to start something completely new and all from me, and hopefully you believe enough in me to stick around. Also, don't expect quick updates. This does take a while to plan and write and I want each chapter to be the best it can be. Anyways, I'll see you in the next chapter. Keep reading!