Ups! Tento obrázek porušuje naše pokyny k obsahu. Před publikováním ho, prosím, buď odstraň, nebo nahraď jiným.
Something was wrong. The drawing, the one of me. Something was off about it. He was happy. Smiling. If he gets to be so happy, why can't I? What does he have, that I don't? He's fake. That kind of happy was too. It wasn't for the real me. I click of the lamp, put my sketchbook on the floor, and close my eyes. Sleep came, full of night terrors.
When my alarm went off, I almost hit snooze, but Dad would kill me if I was late. My head was pounding, my eyes were still moist from crying and my nails were bitten down to the bed, dried blood stained my skin. I pull off my t-shirt, slide off my jeans, which I'd fallen asleep in, and quickly change. I found myself wearing a yellow hoodie, and fresh, faded jeans. After, I head to the bathroom to brush my teeth and straighten my hair.
I barely mumbled a hello to my father, who didn't even look up from his coffee. It's been like this ever since she died. Since she took her life with his sleeping pills. The most contact we ever have is when we argue, when he gets mad, when he takes it out on me.
My brother had a sad look on his face. My bag is heavy with school books, as I sling it over my shoulder and walk to the bus with Adrian in silence. It was waiting for me at the end of the driveway. I had nowhere to sit. The bus was full. It usually was, as I was one of the last people to get on. I sat next to a black haired boy, who offered the window seat. I smiled at him, not really meaning it. I, a claustrophobic, would be squished between him and the window. But he was skinny, so I wasn't too worried.
"You're nothing like your brother." He says.
I stare at him, shocked. " What's that supposed to mean?" I ask defensively.
"Oh, I didn't mean anything by it, it's just he's such a social butterfly."
I roll my eyes, but look up at my little brother anyway. He was talking to a kid in the seat next to him.
"You really love him, yeah?"
I didn't even notice I was smiling until those words came out of his mouth. Immediately, the smile fades.
"That's none of your business." I mutter coldly.
"It's not a crime to love your brother." The guy says. "I love mine, not that I care to admit that. I'm Phil, by the way. Phil Lester."
I mumble something.
"What was that?"
"I said," I say, relaxing a little, "you said it backwards. Howell. Dan Howell."
Phil laughs, "Did you think I was going for a James Bond effect?"
I shrug. "Yeah, I kinda did."
"So, do you love your parents as much as your brother?"
I freeze, tense. "N... no. I loved them once, but anyway, check your face, because your nose is in my business again."
"I-"
"I don't want to here your apologies, or excuses. I don't care. Just shut up."
