Life Ruined By Chicken

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I stare at my reflection in the mirror. It reflects me. But who am I? It's a question that always lingers in the back of my mind. I know my name, my age,
and what I look like, but what is on the inside, I don't know. A knock on my bedroom door stops my inner thoughts. I walk over and just as I turn the handle, another, louder knock follows. I open my door, only to see Susan. What a pleasant surprise. All my life she has almost never been there for me. Therefore she is not worthy to be classified as my mother.

"Dinner is on the table. We're having chicken", she spits out, and with that she is gone.

Chicken. Really, Chicken? She knows I'm a vegetarian but no, she has to give me chicken. I decide to close and lock my door. I refuse to go downstairs, and when I have a plan, I stick to it. Well, for me its not the most difficult task as I spend most of my life in my room anyways, except to go to school or to get food. Because seriously, who doesn't love food. Also, I don't do much, like joining a sport or socialising with friends. To be fair, I don't really have friends and I like to keep it that way. You see, I'm not exactly a 'people' person, as they are called. Instead, every opportunity I get to socialise, I tend to avoid. It might sound like I am special or I need help but no. I can assure you, I am perfectly fine. I hate it when people worry about me. They don't need to and I don't know why they even care about me, when I don't care for them. So, I have come to the conclusion that anyone who cares about me, has a serious case of stupidity.

"Dinner, now. Get down here", the voice of Susan roars through the house. I don't blame my dad for leaving us. I can see where he was coming from.

I stay in my room, the door still locked. Hopefully this time she won't try to blow the door down and kill me in the process. She keeps yelling and it gets louder and louder. Her footsteps are unmistakably coming up the stairs. The only good factor about living with my mum, is that she is rich and has a massive house. Before she reaches the door, I open the little door in my ceiling that leads up to the attic. I hide it by sticking posters on my roof and Susan doesn't suspect a thing. This is like a sort of retreat for me. I have set it up so the atmosphere is relaxing and also over the years I have discovered it is sound proof, so I can be as loud as I want. I usually come up here, if I don't want to deal with Susan anymore and also if I want to call my dad. I stayed on good terms with him and he sends money to me without Susan knowing. Susan wanted me to never speak to him again as "he just cares about himself", which I definitely know is not true. If she ever caught me talking to him, she would most likely kick me out. This I probably wouldn't mind, except for the fact that this house is the only thing I have sentimental value with. Other than Bruno, my black pug, of course. I always spoke to Bruno as if he were human and sometimes, I felt he understood me although he is a dog. He is the only aspect of my life that I still care about. I wouldn't dare let Susan know about him, so he stays in the attic. This works perfectly because if he barks no one can hear it unless they're up there. Through the years, I have taught myself to be independent. I think I could easily move out and look after myself but I can't bring myself to leave this house. I couldn't leave all the memories that remained here.

"Hey, buddy". I walk over to Bruno to fill up his food bowl. He barks and bounces around excitedly.

"Calm down, you're insane today". I say to him and watch as he devours his meaty meal. The stench of dog food fills the room, but that is something you just have to tolerate as a dog owner. Although, that's not even the worst part. The worst part is that he lives in a confined space. In other words, the smell of his poop, urine, food and his smell in general remain and cause the room to reek. I have gotten used to it so it's not really that bad, but I'm sure it's still not exactly optimal for my health.

At this point, I could hear the steam bursting from Susan's ears. In metaphoric terms of course. Maybe I should go see if Susan is okay. I literally laughed out loud. The stench of Bruno must be getting to my head, otherwise I must be going crazy. That actually wouldn't be surprising as I've been my own best friend my whole life. I have been talking to myself ever since I can remember, apart from the rare encounters with my mother and when I adopted my new best friend, Bruno, four years ago. So as you can see, I have a very stable life. Note the sarcasm. This made me laugh out loud again. I'm hilarious! and delirious I think.

My head started to spin at this thought. Now would be the best time to go back down into my room.

I know I should clean the attic and an air freshener probably wouldn't be a bad idea, but procrastination always takes over me.

"Luna, you have a letter from your slob of a father!" I really hate it when my mother talks bad about my father. He is more of a parent to me than her. I run down stairs, excited to what it would be this time. I walk into the empty living room. My mother must of left as soon as she collected the mail. I walk over to the coffee table and pick up the letter. I rip it open. "NO!"

- - - - - - - - - -

Hey again, another chapter complete and it ended on a cliff hanger. You're welcome in advanced. Also hope you're enjoying the story so far. Sorry for any silly mistakes.

Untill next time, over and out! BYES >_<

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