Love, Bad Boy, Love.

Another day.

Warning: This story contains grammatical errors.

___________________________
The incessant chirping and the sun streaming through the blinds were the culprits of my awakening this lovely day. They had beat the champion, Mister Alarm Clock, to it.

Rolling my eyes at particularly nothing, I pulled the cozy, multicolored, zigzag patterned sheets over my face and groaned, which quickly escalated into an audible scream muffled by my pillows.

Day two hundred and thirty seven of being absolutely positively done with this world.

Yes, I have been counting. Since the beginning of year, actually. Though some days were worthy enough not to count. I raised my head to catch a glimpse of the time, which would tell whether or not I had any precious minutes to sacrifice to sleep, and indeed, as the numbers were comprehended, I had exactly thirty two minutes to sleep.

Wasting no time, I sunk into my pillow and immediately drifted off into happy slumber.

The second time I woke up, I knew I had screwed up. Mister Alarm Clock still got his chance to ruin the thing so dear to me, my head was throbbing, an immense pain in my right ankle had me reminiscing the events of the previous night, and I was fifteen minutes behind.

Wasting no time, I jumped out of bed, which I regretted immediately, the pain becoming so severe it was almost intolerable. But that was the last thing running through my brain. The plain would leave soon, like it always does.

I can't be late. I can't be late.

As I hopped on my good leg, struggling to squeeze into my jeans, I grabbed my phone and texted my best friend, Danny, to make sure he wouldn't be late in picking me up. I had not been tardy or absent one day since the beginning of the school year, and it's the end of November right now.

As a senior in high school, it may be surprising that I care about showing up at all, much less about being punctual. But that meant I had less competition. And that meant I had a better chance at becoming valedictorian.

I wanted to be worth something. Maybe being valedictorian could validate that.

A soft ding from my phone indicated a text from Danny saying he'd be here in about 5 minutes, so I grabbed my bag, slung it over my shoulder, and made my way down the stairs

The kitchen was empty, and I sighed in relief. Mum was probably at work and Cole was most likely asleep, so he would not bother me. I finally had a break. I could make it through the morning without my family- however broken it was- treating me like I was worthless.

Life moves on, though.

Mum became like this about 5 years ago, when my dad deserted us. She first started drinking and soon enough she developed a drinking problem. That was when the radical notion of his leaving was my fault dug deep into her mind and buried itself in her every thought and feeling towards me. The verbal abuse soon became physical, and its been like that ever since. Cole would try do help me, but as the years passed, he just stopped. I guess something came over him, like he finally realized I was that 'worthless piece of sh- trash' my mom would treat me like.

I glance at the clock again, it was eight minutes past seven.

I quickly reached up into the snack cabinet and grabbed a granola bar, so Danny wouldn't bother me about lunch. Along with that, I grabbed a vanilla cupcake poptart and inserted it into the toaster whilst I plugged my ears with the mellifluous voice of Taylor Swift. I tapped my foot along to the beat of Ours.