Story Ideas

Rebellious Phases pt 1

The sweet blade slices through my skin like velvet. I see a river of red flow out of my wrist as it thirsts for a release. Suddenly a banging draws my eyes from the enchanting feeling.

The door shakes as it is pounded upon. “Jessica! What the hell are you doing? You’ve been called to the table three times already.”

I growl to myself as my foster sister bangs on the door. “One moment!”

I hear the retreating footsteps as she leaves me to my mess. The white sink is covered in red and my wrist has begun to heal itself. The slice slowly fades to a white scar that joins the others decorating my body.

I pick up my small dagger and rinse it quickly. Once it’s clean I place it in the small hole I made under a lose tile in the flooring.

I then wash the blood off my arms and the sink. I fix my shirt back into place before leaving the bathroom.

In the kitchen, I take my seat and fold my arms on the table.

Milly scrunches up her nose. “Jessica, get your elbows off of the table. Show some manners.”

I make a face and ignore my foster mother. My sister, Maggie frowns at me. “You really should clean out your ears; I think that they are clogged with your stupidity.”

My foster father clears his throat. “Maggie, try to behave. And Jessica you really should listen to your mother. Now can we please eat before the food gets cold?”

I snort out of my nose. “Like it’s any good anyways. And Milly is not my mother. My mother is dead.”

Maggie grumbles. “Oh great, now it’s the sob story again. I’m Jessica and I don’t have a mommy and my daddy ran away, you should pity me and do what I want. Ack! Sooo immature.”

I narrow my eyes at the 13 year old. “You better watch it child.”

Maggie sticks out her tongue at me. “Like you’re going to do anything? You always say this and say that but nothing ever happens you freak.”

Arnold, my foster father, hits the table. “Maggie and Jessica! That is enough. Now eat your dinner or go to your rooms!”

I huff and stand and leave the kitchen. I head straight up to my room and lock the door behind me. I flop on the bed and look at the ceiling.

I lay there for a few minutes before getting up and going to my closet. I move some stuff around and find the mini fridge hidden away from these people. I open it up and pull out a slice of pizza I got yesterday. I eat it cold as I hide my fridge under my junk.

I walk over to my dresser and look in the mirror. My black hair falls like a curtain around my back and face. My bangs on the right side are tucked into my ear while the left side hangs in front of my eye. I tuck the hair behind my hair and look at myself for a moment.

I’m nothing special. Average compared to most. Ugly compared to the rest. I stick out my tongue and look at the piercing to make sure it isn’t infected.

As always it looks a little swollen but no infection. I close my mouth and grab a scrunchy. I put my hair up in a ponytail then pull a shoebox out from under the bed.

I take the lid off and look into the box. A photo of a young brown haired man holding a baby with blonde hair stares at me. I pick the picture up and under it a young blonde woman smiles at me as she lays on the bed of a pickup truck and a blonde girl no older than 3 sits on her back laughing.

I take this photo out as well and set them next to each other.

I sigh at my father and mother look at me from different childhood photos. John, my dad, disappeared into thin air when I was two years old. My mother, Lori, died in a car crash when I twelve. I’ve lived with this foster family since then. I am 17 now. But they will never be a family to me.