Blindsided

Chapter 2: Ellie

​"Ellie! Come out of that damn room for five seconds so I can talk to you!" My father shouts from behind the door.

​"No, I don't need a lecture!" I shout back.

​He practically growls from the opposite side, but his echoing footsteps show that he is finally leaving.

​I exhale loudly and flop back onto the bed and stare up at the slow spinning ceiling fan. The breeze is minimal, but it's a breeze none the less.

​I slowly sit up and examine my room. The cool mint green walls are adorned with posters from some of my favorite bands. A few boxes remain unpacked and lie in the corner of my room near the white wood dresser. The mirror has a huge crack down the middle from the careless movers. The top of the dresser is littered with hair products, nail polish, and makeup containers. A neon pink hairbrush looks ready to fall off the edge of the dresser and I stand up to retrieve it.

The wood floor is sticky from the sweating oak and my bare feet make a sucking sound when I reach the dresser. I pluck the bright colored brush from the dresser and begin running it through my long hair. The dust covered mirror reflects in the light peeping in through the curtained window above my bed. My reflection shows my long blonde hair, blue eyes, tan skin, and tiny stature. I'm not very tall for my age. I am only five feet and four inches and that's not very tall at the age of seventeen. That's not tall at all.

​I set the hairbrush back on the dresser and stare into the mirror for another minute until a beeping noise sends me running to the phone. I nearly trip over a pile of clothes, but I manage to reach the phone just before the last beep.

​"Hello dearest. How has your week been in the lovely part of Greensburg Pennsylvania?" My aunt's voice rises and falls in different parts.

​"It's not terrible, but I wish my father would calm down." I mutter.

​"My brother does have a rather harsh side." She says quietly. "Hang in there sweetie. I will be paying you both a visit next week."

​"I'll try."

​"Well, I just called to see how you are doing, but I have to get back to work. I'll see you in five days."

​"Okay, I'll see you then." I whisper, clicking the button on the screen.

​I sigh while throwing the phone back onto my bed and falling back onto the bedspread. I only have one aunt on my father's side. She lives in Columbus, Ohio and we usually see her three times out of the year. She comes for Christmas, Thanksgiving, and usually around the time of the Fourth of July. With summer here, I have nothing to do. I hate it here already. I am usually bad at making friends anyway, so what does it matter?

​I sigh again while sitting up on the edge of the bed and running my fingers through my hairline. My eyes then go to a poster on the wall. It is falling off the wall from the moisture in the room. It is a picture of a blank covered book and below it reads Progress Takes Time. The poster has little meaning, but it has purpose. It means that if you want to ever accomplish something, you have to be both determined and patient. I believe I have both, but time moves slowly for me. Each day is a waiting game. Each day is a question if today is the day something great will happen, or not. I spend each day waiting for something to act as my escape. I want out of this house and I want far away from my father. I want to make something of myself. Right now, I am nothing and nobody here knows me, so I'm doing something wrong.

​After examining the poster for what seems like an eternity, I slowly stand up and walk to the door. I turn the brass knob and open it a crack before peering through. I can see my father pacing the floor in the living room. He has his beefy hands cupped behind his back and his head lowered. With each step he takes, his head bobs and nods to himself. His hair shines in the light emitting from the rear window and his red T-shirt fits loosely on his thin stature. He isn't buff, but he is tall and scrawny.