I Just Don't Fit In

CHAPTER SIX: Stupid

---

"This will not go unpunished. What you did was - was....punishable," Mom rages on and slamming the door behind her.

Not a second later the door opens again revealing the rest of the family. I bite the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing. The door slammed in their faces.

Oh imagine what their faces looked like!

"There you go again. It's like whatever I say goes straight out the other ear." Mom plants both her hands on her hips an icy glare directed at me. "Is it that hard to pay attention?"

I only shrug, "a majority of people have low attention spans, so you gotta say interesting things to grab their attention."

Without even saying it, I already know what's to come.

"Sapphire, you are on Timeout. Two hours!" She points to one of the corners in the living room.

Mom has this thing that has been going on for as long as I can remember called Timeout. It's when you go into the corner and sit there facing the wall until your time is up. She'll add more time if she catches you breaking the Timeout rules; that she happily framed onto the wall.

Rule One. Always face the wall. Never look anywhere else.

Rule Two. No entertainment. (Practically anything that will make your Timeout less boring.)

Rule Three. Talking is prohibited.

Rule Four. No eating or drinking.

Rule Five. Only Mom has the right to say whether your time is up or to add on.

Mom says its where we think about what we did wrong and what we should do next time. Your whole time there is for you and you only, just you and your thoughts.

This is how 'psycho' was born.

All of us - even Dad - has been to the Timeout once or twice. If Mom knows we did something wrong or she suspects you did something wrong, she'll put you into Timeout. We're fuckin treated as children!

"Two hours!? Mom you have got to be kidding?!" I gape at her.

You would be too if you were to face a white wall for two hours and the only thing to keep you company is yourself. You'll go insane from the isolation. Absolutely fuckin insane.

Mom levels me with her glare. "Yes. And if don't sit your butt on that stool, I will add more on."

That alone had me sprinting into the living room. The stupid fuckin rainbow colored stool comes into view - yes, over the years we decorated the damn stool. The Timeout is on the farther side of the living room; next to the windows. Away from civilization.

Grumbling curses under my breath and kicking the stool then parking myself on it. I scoot a little closer and face the wall. Fuck this.

I hear footsteps coming from behind.

"The basket is empty," Mom's stern voice says from behind.

Shit. That part slipped my mind. Pulling out my phone from my pockets, I turn around and toss it inside the basket on the table a few feet away from the Timeout area. I face the wall again and cross my arms across my chest, letting a sigh escape my mouth.

This is fuckin great.

After hearing the song play through the restruant, Mom went crazy in trying to find me. The moron that wouldn't leave me alone, ran off after hearing Mom shouting for me, saying something about not wanting to be involved.