Unstable

Chapter 1

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTIONING OF SELF-HARM SCARS. PLEASE DON'T READ IF TRIGGERED

“Ava! Damn it retard! You can’t miss the bus today. Get up already.” The loud yell of my older brother, Thomas wakes me. Groaning, I open my eyes and sit up. The harsh light hurts my eyes and I rub them, yawning. I watch Thomas storm out of the room, the door slamming behind him. The loud sound makes me flinch; my Neurofibromatosis gave me an ear tumor a couple of years ago, and since we can’t remove it, I just have to deal with sensitive hearing.

 Sighing, I roll to the edge of my bed and swing my single leg over the edge of it. I push myself off the twin-size bed and fall to the raggedy gray carpet that lies beneath it. Wincing, I stagger to my foot and hobble over to my dresser. I can easily manage short distances one-footed, but I need my wheelchair for anything else.

 
 I quickly get dressed, and then grab my purple brush off the dresser. I run the brush through my hair, untangling the massive bird's nest in the back. And for just a single moment, I silently admire my hair.

  Ugly bitch, a voice teases, breaking the admiration. 

 “Damn it, go away.” I hiss under my breath. Annoyed, I move to my wheelchair and fall into it. My wheelchair is manual, something no one is happy about it. Unfortunately, we can't afford an automatic, and neither the school nor insurance will pay for either. So up until the time when we can afford a change, I have to deal with it.

 Once I am settled, I roll out of my small room and into the elevator we need but can’t exactly afford. Insurance pays for part of the cost, but still has my mom working two jobs for all the other bills, this installment being one of them.

 When I arrive downstairs, I wheel into the kitchen. Thomas is hurriedly wolfing down a bowl of Captain Crunch. My step-mom, Christin is running around, preparing to leave for work. Along with her there are my siblings scurrying about collecting what they need for school. My four year-old sister, Penny, short for Penelope, is the only one not up because she doesn’t have preschool for another hour or so. Christin has our neighbors take her most days, depending on her schedule.

“Don’t just sit there, Ava; move!” Christin barks. I silently nod, holding back an angry retort that threatens to escape my mouth. I grab a banana and head for the living room, out of the way. Christin orders Thomas to bring down Rayma and Carrie, my triplet sisters. Thomas groans and charges up the stairs. He shouts into their room, and they respond. A few minutes later, I watch Thomas, Carrie, and Rayma come downstairs. Carrie, Rayma, and I are all triplets, but I’m so different from them both. For one, I’m not popular like them, and for another, they are gorgeous. Me? Not so much.

 Carrie comes down in a slim purple tank top and black skirt, a black purse slung over her shoulder. Her honey blond hair is pulled back into a bun and brings out the beautiful golden brown in her eyes. She stands at a startling height of 5’11, with the body so many girls dream of: curvy and slender, but with a touch of athletic, due to her interest in dance. However, while Carrie has a dream body, Rayma is both gorgeous and skinny.

 My sister Rayma is shorter than Carrie by at least eight inches, but she is far prettier. Today Rayma’s midnight black hair-something both of us share-is straightened, and a navy blue headband is on top of her head. Rayma has on a neon green tank top with a blue checkered flannel shirt over it, and caprice. Her caramel brown eyes stand out due to the sparkly blue eye shadow she has applied.