·{ Late }·

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Jonathan's POV

Like every other morning I wake up to the sun rays blinding me even though my eyes are shut. Sounds filter into my ears, the simple and regular sounds of birds chirping, my sisters alarm clock ringing from next door, and my mother's moaning from down the hall.

Yes, her having sex when we wake up to face the day is a normal occurrence, ever since she fell into a depression from losing our father - which she blames on me by the way.

She's out every night getting drunk off her shit, coming home with a new man all the time. If she happens to see me while she walks in she'll beat me while explaining why sex is the only thing to rid her of her sadness only temporarily.

"I only do this because you killed my husband!"

A phrase often said by her as she slaps me across the face or punches me in stomach. While I get beat the drunken man she brought home either chats up my horrified sister or entertains themselves by wandering around the house with curiosity. It's usually the first one.

Was I the cause of my fathers death? Technically. He was stressed out while I was recovering from my 'habit'. This recover is still on going to be honest, but I am out of the hospital now. Anyway, while I was in the hospital he had a heart attack and he didn't make it.

I sound really insensitive, that sounds like 'oh hey yeah he died. No big deal.'

It was a big deal. My mother wasn't the only one to fall into a depression, I did too and people have different ways to handle this depression. My mother handling it with sex and beating me every day while I handle it with working out and blades.

I haven't cut my wrists in a while though, and I am honestly quite proud that I haven't had the need to go to those metal blades for stress relief.

If only I had gotten better before the stress got to be too much for him.

I give a drawn out sigh that mixed with a groan as I rubbed the sleep from my eyes. This day was going to suck major balls. Why? Oh you know the first day of school in this town that we moved into only two weeks ago.

We took so long to unpack all our shit. Not only that, but my sister and me had to go and look for jobs. My mother already had a job here, one of the many reasons we moved. She's a stripper. Wow so surprising.

I swing my long legs over the side of the bed, allowing my feet to touch the cold hardwood floor. I stand, stretching my limbs as I do so, before walking to my sisters room, giving the door a small knock.

It swings open after a minute of shuffling and there stands my sister holding a baseball bat up. She sighs in relief when she sees its only me, the only person who she trusts.

"Get ready. School." I say simply before walking from her and going to take a nice hot shower to wash away any dried blood from the beating I got the night before.

I was too lazy and stupid to get off my fat ass and wash myself off from all the blood that my weak and pale skin failed to keep inside my body.

I gag at that one word that caused so much pain in my life, but since there was nothing to throw up I didn't have to rush to the toilet. I growl at myself.

I shake away all the negative things from my mind as I step into the shower and began to wash myself.

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Fuck, fuck, fuck, fucky duck.

Jacqueline, my sister, and I missed the bus. It was only this morning at 8:00 that our lovely mother told us that our bus left at 7:30. Wow.

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