I woke up, in a pile of clothes on the floor. It was 1:30 pm. I stretched and tried to remember how I ended up on the floor. The only evidence I could find was a few empty bottles of vodka right next to me. I went over to the mirror, put my hair in a bun and didn't bother changing. Just as I was about to grab a cigarette my mom called me down. "Frances I'm going for an interview I will see you later bean, don't do anything I wouldn't". I shrugged and went back to my room.
I sat in my messy room that was now filled with cigarette smoke and debating if I should get up and do something or just sit and stare at the wall. I decided to get up. I grabbed my phone and looked in my news feed, only to find more news on how my father died. Apparently my mother was a murderer.
I decided to go outside and go to the store and buy the movie soaked in bleach. As soon as a stepped out a bunch of cameras were in my way and asking how I thought about my mother and about soaked in bleach. I tried to get away from all the chaos. I was told not to talk to paparazzi.
I came home with the movie soaked in bleach. I was determined to find the truth. All I get asked about is my father anyway. I just wished I knew him more. My mom, told me not to bother watching soaked in bleach. For most of my life I have been ignoring the fact that I don't have a dad. I ignore people when they ask me about him. Most people knew him more than me. People said I was just like him. I always knew something was missing.