Dreams Don't Come True (Being Rewritten)

Chapter Two

Finally, maybe about 30 minutes after you’d sat down to wait, you mom trudged down the stairs. She hardly spared you a backward glance as she made her way to the kitchen. Upon seeing no food set out, she turned to you. Her eyes reflecting cool anger.

“Brat. Where’s the food?”

You shivered slightly at her tone and pointed to the microwave, watching as your mother opened said appliance and took her plate of food out with a dissatisfied sniff. “It’s a little cold you idiot.” However, she said nothing further as she sat down at the breakfast table and began to eat.

It was hard, but you kept yourself from making any snide remarks as you got up and quickly ran up the stairs.

*Timeskip cause cleaning is boring*

It was maybe 10 o’clock by the time you’d finished cleaning upstairs, including your brother’s room, and with a small smile on your face, you scurried down the stairs and hurried to the basement door.

Before you could even grab the door knob, you felt a harsh yank on your hair. With a whimper, you turned your head to look at what you assumed was your mom. Much to your surprise, it was your step-brother standing there with a fistful of your hair.

Some backstory on your step-brother. His name was Kyle. Kyle, it just so happened, was a massive jerk and a few years older than you. He was 21 while you were around 17. With a silent sigh, you wondered what you could’ve done to make the pig mad at you this time.

“Hey...Kyle.” You said softly. Years of being treated like scum had you hardly talking and left your voice little more than a whisper.

A grin slowly grew on your step-brother’s face. You knew this was bad. Really bad. Kyle had just gotten old enough to drink a few months ago, and lets just say...he’d used that to his full advantage.

You could just about smell the whiskey on his breath as he leaned closer to you. “Don...don’t hey m-meee.” He slurred. Oh god. He was wasted.

“I-I thought I to-told yoouu I don’t li-” Kyle paused to hiccup before he continued. “Like th-those fu-fuk!ng omoleetsss.”

At first, you could hardly understand what the brute was talking about, but after a moment of deciphering it, you realized he was talking about the omelete you’d made him earlier that morning.

With a groan, you gently tried to pry Kyle’s hand from your hair. If anything, he just held on harder. You winced before sucking in a deep breath and speaking. “Kyle...it’s just the combination of...whiskey and eggs.” You didn’t dare to tell him that it was his fault his omelete didn’t taste right.

Kyle leaned back and shoved your head away from him. Your back struck against the door and your head snapped back, hitting the wood with a dull thud. You grunted and raised a hand to hold your head in pain. “Ow…”

Kyle laughed as he stumbled away. “N-next time...I-I  want soommething th-that dersen’t taste like pisssss..!”

You mumbled a string of colorful words under your breath before you pushed away from the wall and watched the drunk adult stumbled across the house. You flashed a fairly rude gesture in his direction before turning to leave.

Once you got back to your sparsely decorated room, you flopped down onto your bed, clutching your painfully throbbing wrist in your good hand. You took a few deep breaths and sat up just a few moments after laying down.

Gently, you let go of your still hurting wrist and got up to look out the small window. You grabbed the window sill and lightly pressed your face against the glass. Even straining as far as you could, all you could see was the very edge of the sun slowly climbing higher into the sky.

You squinted slightly and assumed that it was sometime around 10:30. With nothing to do for the rest of the day but ponder all by yourself, you sat on the floor under the window and grabbed a pen that you’d hidden under one of the piles of clothes.

Last time you’d drawn was nearly a year ago and if you were honest with yourself...the thought of drawing again was scary. Last time you’d drawn, it had been on the wall of your room. The drawing (a sketch of a girl standing in the rain) was still on the wall beside your bed.

However, when your mother had found out about the drawing, (Courtesy of you dim witted step-brother) she’d gotten so pissed off that it was almost funny.

Keyword- Almost

With a frown, you looked down at the jagged scars that still laced across your left arm. You didn’t really want a repeat of that day. Watching your mom freak about the drawing was funny until she’d gone upstairs. When she returned, she had a strip of barbed wire with her.

You shivered at the memory and steadily avoided looking across the room at the dark bloodstain on the concrete floor.

It was times like this when you wondered why you even still put up with this crap. You weren’t quite sure how long it had been since this all started...three or four years perhaps. Either way, it was getting pretty tiring.

Every now and then, you thought about leaving this hell hole behind but for some reason you never went through with it. Why? That was soemthing you weren’t sure of yourself.

With a deep sigh, you clutched the pencil in your hand harder and silently cursed your mother off and shuffled across the room to your bed. You contently settled down of the floor in front of your old sketch and brushed your fingers across the drawing.

With the sun creeping higher into the sky, you didn’t have much time to draw before the light that came from your window wouldn’t be enough. So with the short amount of time you had in mind, you set to drawing on the wall.

Instead of the drawing being just a girl in the rain, you quickly sketched a forest behind the girl and went over the older part of the sketch to make it easier to see.

By the time you’d nearly finished the line art, the sun had made it’s way high into the sky and had started to dip down once again. With the light now dwindling, you stopped drawing and leaned back to examine the drawing.

You weren’t sure what good art look like but this must be the only thing you were useful for, because it looked pretty flippin good to you.

Your lips curved into a small smile at this as you got up and sat on the edge of your bed. You flinched slightly as you sat down and looked down at your legs. They were patterned and red from sitting for so long on the concrete floor without protection.

The smile that had begun to grow now faded and when a series of loud thumping sounds rang in your ears, it vanished completely. That was either your mom or Kyle stomping to get your attention. With a growl you got up, opened the door, and stepped out into the rest of the basement.

The sight that greeted you almost had you jumping out of your skin