she's a rebel.

burning bridges.

"i am an antichrist! i am an anarchist!"

the venemous and heavily accented tone of johnny rotten permeated through my headphones and into my ears. a small smirk grew on my face at the way he bended the pronounciation of the pair of words that ended each line, just so they would rhyme. this was a technique that i admired not only within punk and grunge, which were my two favorite genres, but also in regards to hip-hop. my mind meandered over the other various commonalities of the three types of music as i ran a hand through my short pixie cut.

i had given myself the hairstyle, with a pair of old and rusted scissors, because there was no way i could afford going to a salon. considering this, it didn't look half bad, if i did say so myself. i also dyed it a deep, saturated magenta with the cheapest box stuff i could find. it turned out to be somewhat of a good thing that we rarely had warm water, because the color had hardly faded since.

unfortunately, the rough guitar and clashing drums were not enough to drown out my mother's frustrated and alarmed exclamation. i had a feeling i knew what it was about, but slid off my headphones anyway, resting them around my neck.

"lookit this," she inisted shakily, shoving a piece of paper in my face as if i were as blind as a bat. i leaned away slightly, remaining in my seat at the small kitchen table. it was a thirty-day notice of eviction, for late payment of rent.

"what am i gonna do, huh?!" she demanded, more to herself than to me. despite the direction of her raised voice, my blood boiled.

"what're you gonna do?!" i yelled, standing up and slamming my fists on the hard wooden surface. i was currently floating from dead-end job to dead-end job, sometimes getting hired and fired the same day, just trying to make ends meet. my mother had inumerable health problems, for which she was constantly on a concotion of medications. lately, though, i felt that she was using her condition as an excuse to sit around feeling sorry for herself instead of taking control of her life like an adult.

"i'm payin' for everything by myself right now! why do you always gotta be like this?!" i spat, confronting her lack of effort boldly and directly for the first time. she backed away slowly, her eyes as wide as saucers.

"g-get out of my house," she stammered.

"what?!" i shouted, commanding her to speak louder.

"get out of my house!" she shrieked, daring to shove me towards the door. i was familiar with this routine, even if our previous arguments weren't about her evasion of responsibility. i chuckled bitterly, pushing her hands off of me as i stomped into my meagerly furnished bedroom and grabbed some clothes, stuffing them into a backpack that i slung over my shoulders.

"we'll see how long that lasts 'fore you're beggin' me to come back, since you can't take care of your damn self!" i screamed, snatching up the case that contained my beloved guitar, my only other essential possession. i hoped that those at the bar i currently tended wouldn't mind if i stored these few belongings somewhere there until my shift was over.

before i hastily made my exit, i viciously taunted her, leaning into her ear as she trembled.

"gotta go. be late for work."