Jail House

Chapter 1

Makalya's P.O.V.

        "You don't need to bother. I don't need to be," I sang along with the only thing I had left, my soul. It's the only thing I have that only I truly have. Every part of me is controlled. Even my heart is controlled by my parents. Depression devours it because of their decisions to keep me prisoner in what they call 'home.' I walk where they walk, never stepping out of line, because i know if i do, the pain inside will only hurt worse. I can't speak for myself, they tell me I need to be positive, don't curse, don't flirt, absolutely nothing involving a guy. My phone, my computer, my IPod, anything social, they snoop it.

        Nothing i do is a secret anymore. Even my little sister, Angie, has grown to tattle on me. I face myself alone because my friends are never allowed near me. My parents accuse them of being 'druggies.' They're the only ones who actually know me. They know I hate my clothes, my family, how I'm forced to live. I don't have to fake a smile or act cheery about my 'popular' clothes around them. I'd rather wear black vans, black skinny jeans, and a band tank top. I don't want to be like everyone else, but my parents tell me it's best. I don't argue or explain my view because it would only lead to me getting in trouble for 'raising my voice' or 'having attitude.'

        As I stare out my window, which just happens to have an alarm on it, I can only help but think, what would my life be like if i was out there? If i was someone else? If I could be me? If I was as free as the birds? As untamed as the oceans? As true as the wood in the trees?

        "I'll keep slipping farther," I kept singing. The door burst open, my furious mother in the doorway. I knew at this point she had been listening. Turning it off was out of the option, she had already heard. 

        "What are you listening to? This is devils music! Talking about bleeding! Do i need to take your radio too?" Of course the lyrics that said 'I won't let go til' it bleeds' just happened to play before she said that.

        "No. I'll change it," I'm lucky she was in a good mood today. Any other day, it would have been gone.

        "Do you think God would approve of this music? All you ever listen to is trash! I didn't raise you to be like that," she yelled at me. Truth is she didn't really raise me at all, she was only there to tell me no. She never played with me or even really talked to me. We had no relationship, I hardly considered her my mother except for the fact that she gave birth to me.

        "No ma'am," I wanted to tell her that it wasn't trash, that it kept me alive, unlike anything she's ever done to be a part of my life. 

        "This is what you want to listen to? You should be ashamed of yourself. You need to ask God for forgiveness. I suggest you think about what you did and what your going to do to change it," she left the room and shut the door but I know she didn't really leave, she kept listening outside the door.

        I shut off the radio. My heart sank as the words left the speaker, leaving me in silence. Broken from my loss of music, I continued to stare out the window. This is my life. I live in a jail house.

A/N

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