Living life for Lucy.

Chapter Four.

It was Monday morning. It was November 1st, 2012, to be exact. And my alarm clock had been going off for about 20 minutes now. I should have woken up at 5 like I always do, but today, I decided to just.. not care. School wasn't the same anymore. Home was never inviting. And I never had any friends.

Then my thoughts jump from my social life to George. His dark hair and blue eyes intruiguing. Why does he care about me? Why..?

I get up and throw on a tight white shirt and braid my black hair to the side and put on my mascara and eyeliner and i'm set for the day. I remember that I haven't changed out of my black sweatpants, and they make me look some-what slender, so I keep them on. I run down stairs and throw on my Uggs, and my grab my bag and go out to the bus. Then I realized that I missed it by about 3 minutes and I had to walk. Hooray. For half a second I contemplated waking up my mother to bring me to school, but then I remembered who exactly my mother was and shot that thought right out of my mind.

As I'm walking, my mother walks out the front door and calls after me, "Elizabeth, where are you going?" I halt mid-step and whirl around.

"To school. I missed the bus." I said with a blank stare, not caring whether or not I would be in trouble because she was the one who stopped me in the middle of me going to school, but then again, she never really cared if she were the one who made the mistake or not. No matter what, it was my fault and I was too blame.

"Get the fuck back in the house," She half-yelled, "You're baby-sitting your little sister for today. I'm going to go visit your father in jail."

I half-frowned. I was looking forward to seeing George today... Wait, what was I thinking? Why would I be excited to see a boy who probably only wanted a quick booty-call, anyways? No. I can't be doing this to myself.

I walk back into the house and look at my mother. She lights a cigarette and inhales. Nasty habit.

Lucy has already woken up and she's sitting at the kitchen table eating a bowl of cereal that she probably poured herself.

Her head was so small, and it already looks like the hair was thinning and falling out. My heart cracks but I put up a facade so that not only Lucy can't tell that it hurts me like this, but so that my Mother doesn't see, either.

I sit at the table with my sister, and put my head down on the granite, it's warm surface cooling off my face from the anger that made my blood boil.

I look down at my hands and see the cigarette scars on them and remember the little girl that was always abused by her drunken father and a mother who was never around. That was when Lucy was first conceived. My mother was out drinking and getting stoned every night, even when she was 6 months pregnant. I blame her for Lucy's illness. Why was she such a horrible mother? What made her think that it was ever okay for any of that to happen. Why did she ever think that anything that she did was okay? The cursing at little 10 year old me, daily beatings, the burn marks on my arms and wrists. What made her think anything she did was ever okay? She was a sick, twisted woman.

Never again will I ever be able to look at that woman the same.