Grrizzzzzzzzz! Grrizzzzzzzz!

I struggled to turn off alarm without opening my eyes. Yes it was my alarm that sounded like that. It originally sounded like `Ringggggg! Ringggggggg!` But it was a like million years old. I scooted to the edge of my bed and tried to reach for the alarm eyes closed and to snooze it, just five more minutes, five more minutes of bliss, my hand not fully awake swiped and everything on my nightstand ended up in the floor with loud crashing noises which jolted me awake and led my to scrambling movements that had me sliding off the bed, my tangled bed sheets wrapped around and entrapping my left leg.

I quickly held on to the floral patterned curtain at my window and ended up pulling the whole thing off as I ended up on the floor, the curtain over me, my alarm clock still of course ringing.

My name is Catherine and I hate my life.

”What the **ing hell is wrong with you. ”

A 40 year old woman barged into the room with an overnight mask raised to the top of her head and a concoction of of green disaster that was supposed to be a treatment for her skin but will never do anything to help her mangle, evil, dastardly, hopeless, –

”You ungrateful thing. Because I allow you the privilege to go to school you think to ruin my house? ”

”Its my fathers house. ”

I muttered cause it was the truth.

The truth though does not always save you cause I got a red cheek that day for my efforts. A result of the slap she gave me in case you were wondering.

Im just glad my little sister Emma wasn around to see that. She was currently off at a sleepover and was a sweet little 13 year old thing that didn deserve to live with or even know people like my step mother exist. Yes that thing was a human thing my father married. Why? I don know either.

My life wasn always this bad. I had a loving mother, loving father, annoying little sister that I constantly want to murder. A perfect family.

And then my mom died of a terrible malaria fever on a trip to Africa.

My dad of course was grieving and grew distant. If only it stopped at that though. He started drinking and smoking and all those bad habits they talk about in the movies about abusive fathers. You read that right. I cleared my throat and mentally read; Abusive: Noun: Prone to treat someone badly by coarse, insulting words or other maltreatment; reproachful; scurrilous. . . . Or was it an adverb? English isn my best subject. I know weird right? Anyways the first time he hit me was when I refused to get him a beer. I was 13 just like my sister is now and refused to get him a beer because it had been 2 years since mom died and he needed to cut the crap. He was remorseful when he was sober hed apologize and take us the park. Problem was that he was only sober once in two months.

My annoying sister became the reason for me to try everyday. I do it for her. Or maybe for future me, I don know anymore these days.

He died in a car accident -don drink and drive folks- I knew my father had become a drunk but I never thought hed be as stupid as to drive while drunk.

We would have been sent to am orphanage or foster home, assuming he hadn married that witch 5 days ago.

I know, I know, it sounds too much like a fictional Cinderella story, but unfortunately in my case, there is no prince looking for me with a glass slipper in hand.

I looked at the ugly curtain on the floor. Ill have to fix that before leaving for school.

I hate my mornings. It sucks ever since my mom died, sometimes I find myself wondering what could be worse than my present, little did I know I was about to be forced into the the worse aspect of my life.

I am a soon to be 20 year old college student at this varsity a few miles away. St. Louis Cardinal was a school for rich kids. I don know why my stepmother can let me go to a school like this, but Im not mad at it. At all.

Unlike in the high school movies, most of these kids aren bullies or anything mostly because they are too fragile and bothered about how to make their twenty third birthday bigger than their twenty second -while they are still twenty. Mostly rich kids being mean is a stereotype. And poor kids being the

点击屏幕以使用高级工具 提示:您可以使用左右键盘键在章节之间浏览。

You'll Also Like