Chapter One

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Being a depressive person is hard. I've got optimistic friends, and a friendly family; except for my father. He's always been this livid man, the definition of hatred. Why did I have to inherit this illness from his distress?
It was a cold morning, which is weird, it's almost never cold here. As I glance to my window I notice the clouds aren't covering the sky. Why is it so cold? My father was against using the air conditioning except for excessive heat. It was actual torture.
Once I climbed out of bed I walked to the bathroom, I mean, who doesn't? I hate looking in the mirror, I'm such an ugly person. What I see, well, even if I could explain it, it's not like anyone deserves to know.
It's upsetting, having to go downstairs. I don't like have my father's presence lingering over everyone in the house. I still decide to walk down the stairs, despite my compelling thoughts of jumping out of the window instead.
"Good morning, Elliot!" My mother's voice rang in pleasure.
"Good morning, mom. Breakfast smells good."
"Go ahead and make a plate before your father takes it all, and you know he will." She handed me a paper plate, we all hate washing dishes. Although we're lazy, it's such a waste of money.
"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. You know I hardly ever eat in the morning. Hand me my monster, though?" I put the plate back on top of the counter.
"You know you'd feel better if you ate. Having an energy drink every morning is unhealthy." She pulls the monster from the fridge and hands it to me. I slightly smile up to her, I know it makes her happy. No one smiles anymore.
"Hey, dad drinks coffee every morning and no one gives him shit." I chuckle to myself.
My mother chuckles under her breath and smiles back, "Hey! You better watch your language before your fathe-"
"Before I what? Hear the kid cuss?" My mother's smile almost immediately fades.
My father was a rough guy to look at. He's got this scruffy beard in the morning. It looks like a lost cause, but he grooms it perfectly every morning.
I notice he's walking to me, so I turn to face my mother and open my drink. It was the first mistake of the day.
"Your mother's right, You shouldn't have cussed'" he smacked the back of my head as hard as he could, "Make a plate for me, Lauren?" He looked to my mother.
"Of course, darling." She always obeyed him like a dog.
My head was ringing, and half my drink was spilled on the floor. I knew it gave my father a sick satisfaction, seeing my distress. Quickly I reach for a towel and fall to my knees to clean the mess. It was easier to stay silent, so my mother wouldn't get the backlash.
"Elliot made a mess!" My brother screamed.
My younger brother is 8, he grew up very implusive; taking after my father.
"Quiet!" My father's voice echoed off the walls around us. Immediately my brother silenced himself and walked to the table, his plate was already made.
I've got an older sister, too. She's only a few months older than me, but we're 17. I guess we're 'Irish twins'? It's confusing.
I always notice new, subtle bruises that cover my sister's arms. She only wears short sleeves at the house, unless there's company. My mother does the same, having to hide her bruises too. I remember one day her neck looked mangled. She struggled to cover it in makeup, but somehow managed to.
"Sit down. All of you, we're a family, aren't we? So let's sit down together." My father's raspy voice was loud. I didn't want to listen but for the sake of my family, I sat silent sat between my brother and father.
Several minutes of silence passed, "Why is it so cold?" I broke the serenity.
"I decided to turn on the air, is that a problem?" He looked at me.
"I never said it was a problem. You never turn it on, and it isn't that hot outside. So why'd you turn it on?" I replied.
"I've got an important meeting here, tonight. I expect everyone to be on their best behavior." My father made good money, we live in a nice house with a kitchen that's always full of food. I'm not sure how people can like him enough to continuously offer him more money an hour.
"Another promotion?" My sister added to the conversation.
"It's possible. More income means more luxury's for me." My father replied as he took a bite of food. We were silent for the rest of the meal.
"As much as I love sitting with everybody, we have to get ready for school." I stood up from the table, pushed in my chair and reached for my brother's hand. He grabbed it as always, "By the way, it's too cold. You'll freeze your guests." I looked to my father and sarcastically grinned his way. I walked my brother up the stairs. Hazel, my sister, followed.
"Pick out what you wanna wear, I'll help you out if you bring them to me." I patted my brother's head and set him to his room. Waiting for him to come back, I look through my closet. I picked out an outfit, stepped into my closet and changed.
"Elliot, hurry up." My sister called to me. I quickly pull my pants up and rush to open the closet door.
"You good?" I asked.
"Aj needs help with his outfit."
I nodded at Hazel and walked to my brother's room. Aj was a little slower than most kids, my father had sent him to the hospital when he was about 5 or 6 and ever sense he's been having a harder time than most kids. He didn't even make it into third grade this year, he's still in first.
"You can pull up your pants, I'll help with your shirt and shoes, okay?"
He smiled up at me and nodded, jumping into his pants. He was always optimistic, it was actually depressing. He won't ever understand how miserable his family is.
"Alright buddy, lift up your arms." He did as told, and I got his shirt on.
"Sit down? Shoes next." He sat on his bed, and slowly kicked his feet back and forth. It was a struggle keeping his legs still, but after a few minutes I got him all ready to go.
My sister met up with us at the top of the stairs. We walked down together and grabbed our backpacks.
"Have a good day at school, okay?" My mother's voice called to us with love. She was happy we were getting out of the house. I wasn't happy to he leaving, I knew my father would add onto his collection of bruises.
"Love you Mom," both me and Hazel yelled back as we walked out the door.

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