The Girl With The Missing Arm {on hold}

:09

THE NEXT MORNING I'm awoken by my dad singing horribly to some Tupac song. His favorite rapper and according to him the best rapper of all time. Although I think that could be arguable.

Even though I love a little Tupac myself I don't share in his enthusiasm, as its five o clock in the freaking morning, and I don't even want him here.

I reluctantly crawl out bed feeling nervous and jittery all of a sudden for no particular reason until I remember today is the day. Today is the day I tell Finn my story. Or at least part of it. I'm still not sure how I feel about that though.

I quickly brush my teeth and my hair taking care to not linger too long on my reflection in the mirror. I really should take it out of my bathroom so I won't be haunted by my reflection every time I come in here.

After that I peruse through my closet searching for another shapeless hoodie and jeans, and after I find them struggle to get them on with my one abled hand. Then I slip on my weather beaten converse and I trudge down the stairs ready for the day.

"Live the life of a thug nigga, until the day I die live the life of a boss playa cause even gettin high..."

When I enter the kitchen I'm graced with my father pimp walking around our kitchen while rapping horribly to another Tupac song.

I groan in annoyance. "Could you please stop. You look stupid."

"Well good morning to you too. Shawty." My dad greets me sarcastically although he does reluctantly turn off the radio resting on the kitchen island.

Thank God. The world needs another Tupac but my father definitely isn't it.

"Up early." He speculates as he looks through our fridge for something edible and breakfast related. Good luck to him on that. We need to go grocery shopping again soon.

"Of course I am, because someone decided to play loud rap music." I mutter as I grab a bowl and the cereal box simultaneously with my one hand. Overestimating my strength I end up dropping the bowl against the hard wooden floor while trying to balance them both. It shatters instantly.

"Dammit!" I curse not even caring that my dad is in the vicinity.

I place the cereal box on the counter and grab for the broom and dustpan in the supply closet.

"I got it." My dad assures me as he reaches over the glass to try and get the broom from me, but I move it out of his grasp. "No I got it. Go back to singing like a freak."

"Noah you can't do that by yourself. You need some assist-"

"I don't need you!" I yell. "I didn't need you those four months you were gone and I don't need you now." My voice goes quiet as I bend down to pick up the big pieces. He just watches me silently his face hardening slightly.

"I got the rest." He commands when I throw the pieces in the trash, his voice leaving no room for argument.

"Whatever."  I mutter not feeling like putting up a fight anymore.

I leave the kitchen, my appetite gone, and enter the living room deciding to watch some morning cartoons for thirty minutes to kill some time before my bus stop comes at six.

When I flick the television to nickelodeon, Spongebob the goofy, slightly effeminate, anthropomorphic sponge greets me along with his favorite pink pal Patrick. They're already doing something stupid and reckless while simultaneously annoying their grumpy, pessimistic neighbor Squidward.

Ironically I used to dislike Squidward as a kid, but now I kinda am him.

By the time the episode's finished my mother has already managed to make it downstairs in her hospital scrubs.