You look at just a regular family photo, a mother, a father, and their son. The mother and son both have white hair, and the father has brown hair. You may think nothing is wrong with it, but upon closer inspection, you notice the child seems rather uncomfortable and uneasy, and the mother seems to have a slight grin on her face, followed by red wine stains on her shirt. The father figure seems to have nothing wrong with it other than the picture frame being cracked on where the father is.
You look back at the image of the child, then into the mirror. Its just you. You don't look anything like the child in the photo anymore, instead rather unkept and tired. Your hair is still white and messy, you haven't washed your clothes in days, and behind you is an unkept room, not much besides a messy bed with pillows in a rather strange position, and a messy floor with old clothes, maybe some old polaroid photos, but who knows.
In this story, your name is Ace for now.
You look over your shoulder to face your door. After a moment you turn away from the mirror and walk toward your door, placing the photo on your night stand and leaving the room. You walk over to the kitchen, noticing that your mother is currently not home. You ponder if you should eat something or not, despite not having eaten in a few days. You make your mind up to eat a small bowl of cereal. preferably rice Chex (the best ones in my opinion).
As you eat your cereal, you check the time, its 11:34. "Oh, mom should be home soon..." You think to yourself, looking off to the front door for a moment before focusing back on eating your cereal. After eating, you place your single dish in the sink, rinsing off the bowl a bit before heading back to your room. Once you enter your room, you lay on your bed curled on your side, opening your phone and checking your medias. You scroll online for a bit before hearing the front door slam open. Your mom is home. You raise your guard a bit hearing your mother walk into the house. As you hear your mother take off her jacket and shoes. You hear her wander over to your room, slamming the door open and yelling at you. You flinch and freeze for a moment. You are too scared to even move as your mother approaches you as you are on your bed. Your mother screams at you for countless things, such as being a lousy and emotional kid, and being such a disgrace to the world, although you are too scared to even pay attention to what she is saying, you can still hear her. Her words are painful and unfair. What did you do to deserve the treatment you are given? was the question anyone would ask, but you wouldn't know how to reply due to this happening countless times. You wish that your father was there to help you.
You barricade your door with your dresser and your chair. You start to overlook your life, wondering if all mothers are like this. You walk over to the far corner of your room with a pillow. you sit down in the corner, curled up leaning against one of the walls hugging your pillow. You start to cry quietly into your pillow for a while before calming down a bit. You reach over to your night stand, taking the same photo of your family and looking at it again, you wonder if this was supposed to happen at all. The sight of you father on the photo wants t make you punch a hole in your wall. "Why did you leave me here, Dad..?" you ask yourself, hugging your pillow with one arm tightly. After a while of getting over your thoughts and feelings, you walk over to your bed, resting your head on one of your pillows and hug the other that you are still currently holding as you slowly drift off to sleep.
The next morning, you wake up, facing toward your wall. Your arms ache as you move around a bit. You look at them to see them all bruised up from yesterday's outbreak. You get up from bed and put on one of your dad's old hoodies, its baggy and warm. You look off to where your bedroom door is again, seeing its still barricaded. You decide to move your dresser and chair back to their original places and slowly open the door, checking if your mother is home. You look around the living room a bit before sighing and grabbing your backpack, packing your notebooks, more books, and a book from the library. You quickly grab your black beanie, placing it on your head and changing your clothes to more baggy clothes, like some black cargo pants with white stitching, and keep wearing your dad's hoodie. You throw your bag over your shoulder, and run out the door, locking it quickly behind you before running off to class.
