Zinnia [BWWM]

Get The Hell Out

I quietly unlock the front door. I open the door and look behind me. I wave at Sam and Arsen and quietly walk into the house using my crutches that was recently bought. I closed the door quietly and slowly went up the stairs. It's official. My ankle is broken. Thanks Meathead for making everything a little more difficult.

Once I got upstairs I went to my dresser, grabbed my pajamas, and went to the bathroom. I set my clothes on the counter and put my crutches on the wall. I open the shower door and turn the hot water on. I pull my hair into a bun and put my shower cap on. I stripped off my clothes and slowly got in the shower. It's very hard to take a shower with a purple boot on your foot. Sam wanted to be the first to sign it, but Arsen grabbed the sharpie first. Because of that Sam ignored Arsen the whole car ride to my mother's house.

My mother. What would she think when she sees my boot and crutches? Would she yell, curse, threaten me? I sigh and start to wash myself off. After about 15 minutes I get out. I change into a black tank top, red sweatpants, and one sock for my cold foot. I pull my shower cap off, and grab my crutches.

I go back downstairs to where my backpack is. Arsen brought it with us when we went to the nurse and hospital.

I open my backpack and take out the chick-Fil-a I got earlier today. I quickly got the chicken sandwich out of the wrapping and took a bite. I moan from that tastiness. I finished the sandwich and hid the wrapping in my backpack.

I grab my backpack and crutches and walk back to my room. I stop when the front door unlocks.

She's home.

The front door opens and she walks in. She puts her purse on the bench by the door. She drops her keys in a bowl on the bench, and fixes her hair in the mirror. She slowly turns her head. We stare directly at each other. The tension is thick. Her face hardens and her eyes look at me in fury. Then she looks at my boot.

She stomps her way to me and snatches my crutches away. She opens the front for and throws them out. Then she grabs me by my hair and throws me out of the house.

"GET THE HELL OUT," she screeches.

After that she grabs my backpack and throws it next to me, and slams the door.

I'm not surprised by this. The woman clearly isn't able to handle anything maturely and her first reactions are to leave or kick someone out. I pick up my crutches and my backpack and make my way to the park. It's usually a 5 minute walk, but it's longer since I have to carry my backpack and I have a boot. Once I arrived I sit on the bench. I'm so sick of being in this wretched town. I keep telling myself, "just this school year", but it's getting harder and harder. I didn't realize I was crying until I felt a water drop land on my hand.

"Excuse me. Excuse me," a voice says. I look up. There's a cute little boy about 3 or 4 years old with blondish hair.

"Why you crying?," he asks.

"I'm not crying," I say wiping my face.

"Mommy says if you tell a story your nose is gonna grow like Pinocchio," the boy says.

"Your mommy's right," I tell him.

"Where your jacket", he asks.

It's fall here and it's starting to get cold.

"I left it at home," I replied.

"What happened to your leg," he asks.

Why so many questions?

"I got hurt," I say.

"You got a boo boo," he says.

"Yes I got a boo boo," I say.