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I walked home exhaustedly. Then I got home, and turned my key into the lock, making my way inside. I threw my bags to the side, yawning.

"Honey, are you home?" I called out.

I rubbed my chin, as I waited patiently for a response.

But there wasn't one.

"Of course he fucking isn't," I seethed.

I made my way to the kitchen, to quickly make him some food for when he would come home. I boiled him some rice, and re-heated some of the curry from last night. I really couldn't be arsed today, because I was too pissed off and tired.

After I did this, I made my way to my bedroom, and slumped backwards onto my bed, kicking my legs up and tucking myself into my blanket. I was tired, so this made me feel a lot better.

As I rubbed my eyes, a sudden ringing of my phone caused me to jolt upwards. I grabbed hold of my phone, holding it out in front of my face to see who it was, hoping that it was Bruce.

"It's my dad," I sighed to myself, and clicked 'Reject' on the call. I would message him back later, because I wasn't in the mood to speak to him right now.

It was time to flick through Instagram memes for two hours before Bruce came home. I had nothing better to do, and I wasn't tired enough to go to sleep yet.

Allow me to introduce myself.

I'm Sofia Martinez.

I'm 28 years old...

And you could say that I'm bored of my life.

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