#1 in Young Adult
#9 in Badboy
#1 in Cold
#3 in Goodgirl
#1 in Sweetheart
#14 in Love
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He'd never met someone with such a bubbly personality. Not to mention the wildness and odd phrases she'd say every five minutes...
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❀Azalea❀
Home used to be a place I loved. Coming home would be the highlight of my day.
The sounds of family laughter and the smell of a good, home-cooked meal were the best parts.
Never would I have ever thought the sound of shouting and glass shattering would become the new normal.
I hold my pillow tighter against my ears as the sound of our once loved fine china gets thrown against the walls of the home I used to adore.
No matter how much it happens, I still can't help but cry.
Especially knowing that it's all my fault.
Knowing how much everything has changed over the past two years, it hurts my heart.
The sound of footsteps coming up the stairs shocks me into reality. I wipe my face clean of the salty tears and blink my eyes at a rapid pace to alleviate their redness.
My door opens and my mother comes stumbling in. I rush out of bed and come to her aide.
My room is my only escape. I don't want it to become a place for her to take out her frustration like the kitchen.
I've been able to keep everything in my room unbroken and I would truly love for it to stay that way.
I've even gone as far as keeping my own plates and cups in one of my dresser drawers. All glassware gets broken if left in the kitchen.
"Mom," I try my hardest to hold up her drunken form. She grabs ahold of my light blonde hair to help keep herself from falling and I bite my lip, holding back a yelp.
She didn't mean to.
"Azzy," she slurs, "we ran out of liquor."
My heart falls and I mentally scold myself for thinking that she may actually want to converse with me about other things.
"I'm sorry," I whisper, sitting her on the edge of my bed, unable to hold up her form that is slightly larger than mine.
"Go get me and your father some more whiskey," she mumbles, a sloppy smile on her face.
I push my hair behind my ears and straighten out the cloth shorts on my legs.
If there's one thing I hate about living in the part of Tennessee I do, it's the easy access to moonshine; my parents' first choice of beverage.
"Mom, you know I can't do that," I wipe her chin-length, dark brown hair away from her dull blue eyes.
I remember when those eyes used to be bright.
"Why the hell not?" My father's deep voice calls out from my doorway causing me to jump in fright at his sudden appearance.
"I-I'm 19, remember?" I remind them, nervously fiddling with my fingers.
