The Red Ribbon

My Family's A Mess

As I sit in my room I keep turning up my music louder and louder. I try to block out the yelling and screaming coming from downstairs. I fail to succeed. I start to think about something, anything. My mind stays blank like a sheet of paper when you can't think of how to start an essay. Blank.

I decide to open my blinds and crack open the window. It's starting to get rather stuffy in here. As I start to open it I can't stop myself from going all the way. It's so beautiful. The sun dances on the little falling snowflakes. They almost look silver the was the sunlight is shining on them. There hasn't been too much snow at all yet and it's almost the end of December.

As soon as the snowflakes touch the ground they melt away into nothing. It's quiet and warm outside today. I go and turn down my music because it's far too loud and my head is starting to hurt.

When I off the music, the yelling seems almost as loud as my music was. I open the door and it only gets louder. Every step I take the sound gradually gets more unbearable. I'm beginning to understand what they're yelling at each other. Back and forth, back and forth, back and forth.

When I get to the bottom of the spiral staircase I start to walk down the hall. I pass my little sister's room on the right. I hear her crying. I continue to walk further down the hall and pass the washroom on the left. There's blood on the floor, sink, towels and razor blades. It's a very bright red. Almost as bright as the ribbons I used to wear as a young child. I wouldn't leave the house if they weren't tied in my hair. Those were days, weeks, months, years in my life where we were all happy. Everyone got along and there were no problems...none at all.

I ignore this. This is normal in this household. I know it shouldn't be. But it is. And that won't change. I keep going down the hall way and stop at my younger brother's room. He's usually louder in there. Walking around, taping his foot, playing guitar, singing. But today...nothing. I knock on his door and peak in a bit. He's asleep in his bed. I close the door softly and walk downstairs to the main floor. Last summer I moved my room to the attack to get away from noise but it didn't make too much of a difference.

Dad and Bailey, my stepmom, are screaming and yelling at each other. Bailey has a black eye. I feel bad for her but I'm also glad that dad's anger wasn't taken out on the younger ones or myself. Nolan is 10 and Blossom is 12. The fighting seems to get louder and louder and then there's a sound of something smashing.

Silence.

I walk to the back door not wanting to see what has happened. I don't pass my parents. I slip on my converse, my only shoes, and a sweater that belongs to my friend. He left it here last year and never came back to get it. I miss him. I really do. My boot cut jeans are pretty worn out, but in this town no one cares too much. You could wear the same outfit 5 days in a row and no one would even notice. I open the door and step outside.

I am Forest. A sixteen year old girl just trying to get by. Welcome to this hell I call life... There's no turning back now.