Waylyn

Chapter One

   I somehow managed to get myself comfortable on the old worn-out couch upstairs. I hiked my biceps up and pinned my knee into my tummy. MTV was playing at a low volume in the dark living room, and I pulled the blue and green aquatic ocean blanket toward my chin. I fluttered my eyes opened to see Teen Mom blinking on the large box T.V. I groan and mumbler something to myself as I reached for the DIRECT TV remote and clicked the old guide button. 2:36 blinked in the corner. I reach for my iPhone that squished in between the couch cushions and yank it out, clicking the home button to open up the phone and I instantly open up Snapchat.  

Raquel snapchatted a photo.

It reads. I click it open and see my old best friend Raquel eating a bowl of cereal with The Sandlot in the forefront, and the caption reads how relaxing it was to be alone. I can agree with that caption, however, sometimes I don't wanna be alone. On the other hand, I wouldn't be alone much longer nowadays for the simple fact I am now living in my grandma's home, where my aunt and young kid and baby cousins live too.

Granted it is a huge place, two-story, well, the downstairs is the basement however there are bedrooms and a bathroom. I'm on the couch this night because I wanted to be alone tonight, and I knew if I slept downstairs a baby would be crawling up my legs at night. I sit up and yawn, rub my eyes, and step onto the dirt wood floor. I make my way into the dining room which connected to the kitchen. I step into the closed kitchen and open the fridge, pulling out the chocolate milk. I pull out an oatmeal cup, translucent pink, and fill up and chug it quickly.  I place the cup on the counter and step out back into the dining room. I was huge. It openly connected into the living room, which held a couch and a love seat, both lounging sections old and worn out however cozy, a large table in the corner on the room, stashing hoarding collections, a large box tv on a bookshelf that stood pressed against two large curtainless windows and the front door, showing off the wooded front yard. The huge open dining room held a large table, old computer desk with a slow desktop, and a hallway that held a bathroom and my grandma's room. Also there was a door in the dining room and right next to the stairs that held an extra bedroom with a bed, a small T.V and another hoarding storage area. Downstairs, in the basement, three more bedrooms and a bathroom were held, all of them basically just rooms with huge beds and a t.v. in each room. 

My grandma's house is very nostalgic, homey, cozy. But me being the black sheep, I was misunderstood quite a lot. I wasn't mistreated, I was just misunderstood. And the reason behind that was because, I was fifteen, a teenager, living in a world full of babies, kids, adults. Noone really knew, Waylyn, me. My mother died when I was very young, and my father is gone off into military, and I can't contact him for a while. 

I step down the hallway and creek open the wooden bathroom door. I step in and look in the large mirror at my reflection; i see a long black-haired, blue-eyed, black choker wearing, ear ring wearing young lady. I was pretty, but I'm not sure I would call myself 'sexy'. I mean, I am 15 though, with large breasts, and a decently large ass. I redo my messy bun and then decide I should go back to bed and get some rest before the morning sun rises.

I trot back into the living room and lie in my couch bed, pulling. the blankets to my chin and drifting back off to sleep.