I'm sitting on my bed scrolling threw twitter when someone's post catches my eye. "Oh My God. Im so jealous of anyone who has Mr. Park, the new senior teacher. Like he's so f*cking hot. Like how is he even a teacher? He like can't be over 22. I saw him at orientation. I can't get over his flawless jawline. Like omg I could cut a f*cking diamond it's so sharp." Oh this girl goes to the school I'm starting at. Mr. Park? Why does that sound familiar? Wait. Where's my schedule. Oh! Found it. Let's see... yep! I knew it. That's where I've seen Mr. Park. He's my teacher. I glance at the clock. It's 9:30 pm and dad hasn't come home yet. Oh no... that means he's drinking. I hear the front door open. Speak of the devil.
Sh*t. He's coming to my room. My door opens.
"Yyyooouuuyouliilsshhh*t."
His words are slow and slurred. He's really drunk.
"W-what."
"Commeree." (come here)
He grabs me by my hair and drags me out of my room.
"N-no! Dad come on think about what you're doing right now."
"Iknnowwexaaactlywwhatimdooingyouuglyb*tch."
I start crying now
"Dad. Just calm down and think. I start school tomorrow. If you hurt me they'll call child protection services. We don't want that do we? It's my first day. They pay more attention to new students. They will notice."
He chucks his bottle at the wall and starts swearing.
I go back to my room and cry for a while. I was lucky this time.
When I calm down I realize I still have things to do before bed. Ugh it's already 10pm. I still have to get all my stuff together and pick an outfit. Shoot I have to take a shower still too. I'll skip dinner for tonight I already don't have time for anything.
I finish packing around 10:15. I go and take a shower. I stand under the warm water longer than usual. I just let everything melt away with it. By the time I dry my hair and change it's already 10:50. I go pick my outfit for tomorrow. I choose this:
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By the time I get to sleep it's already 11:11. Of course, you know I'm a hopeful weirdo. I make a wish that my life will get better and go to sleep.
