Red

A End

"Get your lazy butt out of bed or I'm going to yank you out by your hair!!!" My mother yells. 5:30 in the morning and this is our alarm clock. Well ours and the whole neighborhood. She yells so much I am shocked she hasn't lost her voice yet.

I wait thirty minutes before rolling out of my bed. Clothes, clothes, clothes. I need clothes.

I grab the first pair of clothes and the same pants I wear everyday. I hate the color, way too bright for my taste. Even if it is kind of faded away. I need more jeans that can actually fit me. Ever since I started to lose weight everything either too big for me or is a shirt.

For me any shirt fits but pants? I am a short person with short legs. I am only 5'1" and compared to everyone at school I am pretty short. I finally got a pair of pants that actually fit me. Now I just need more that fit but my mom.

She'll just complain about me asking. She says I ask for too much stuff. I can admit I ask a lot but the stuff I really want is only two things. I want to dye my hair and I want some glasses again.

My brother broke my glasses and I can barely read anything on the boards at school. The hair dye is kind of just so I can look more like myself. My inner self. I want to dye my hair red. A beautiful color with several of meanings. Fire, passion, blood, fierce, and even, as they say in Kinky Boots, sexxxxx!

I loved that musical. Especially Brendon Urie. I want those boots but if I wore them my mom would call me a stripper. No matter what I wear with them. I would wear black skinny jeans, are red shirt, and a black leather jacket. It would look amazing with my red hair and the black geek style glasses. Some red lipstick, black winged eyeliner, some mascara, a little red eyeshadow.

I think I would look good like that. My mom for sure would hate it but I would adore myself. I might attract a few guys but easily push them away. I'm not a w***e. I am just a girl wanting to be proud of how I look.

That's all-

"Ana, get out here or else!" My mom yells at me. Ughhhh! I swear, I can't wait to live on my own. I can have a normal alarm clock that beeps. No more threats or yelling.

I put on my leather jacket and walks out of my room. She can't see that I was doing it again or she'll yell at me more. Then I run into my room to do it again. First it was my friend that made me start. Now it's her that will keep me from stopping.

I'm sorry but the yelling isn't helping. I know you're mad but it doesn't help. I will always end up crying and hiding in my room. I just go to my little tool. I've been doing it so much it doesn't even hurt until later.

She will never understand why I can't stop just yell at me more. Then will use it against me. I hate it. She isn't helping just making it worse. "If you didn't do it, you would be ok." "If you didn't do it, you wouldn't have to worry." "Stop doing it then and you can stop wearing jackets all the time."

Every day, even in public. Doesn't she know it makes it worse. It's getting harder to hold back the tears every time she say it.

She wasn't like this when we were with him. With my dad. That guy took all her time. I watched my siblings myself. We were fine. Scared, hiding, playing, distracting ourselves from the fighting.

Back then we were happy with our miserable life. We never got yelled at really but hurt. Both physically and emotionally. Maybe that's why we all are like this now. Different coping ways but all negative.

I will never accept it. But I have to fight with it myself.

My mom shoves the door open almost hitting me with it. "Get out her now we only got 15 minutes to leave." I grab my backpack and walk into the living room. I set everything down and grab an apple for lunch.

"Eat breakfast and get your lunch!" My mom yells. I pour myself a tiny glass of milk and pack my apple in my backpack. At least I'm actually bringing some food this time. I might not have supper tonight again. Probably just go to sleep early.

I leave the kitchen and sit down on the couch. I pull out my phone and play a game. I watch my mom leave. I grab my stuff and head to the car. Once i’m inside, I continue my game and wait for everyone else.

I don't buckle up until everyone is inside and we’re moving. After we are couple of blocks away I buckle. Setting my phone in my pocket and curling up into a warm little ball. A small little nap will be fine.

The car stops and I go to unbuckle. "Ow." I hiss out quietly so no one hears. Something inside of me hate that they don't pay attention. I can't believe that through a heavy winter and my leather jacket I can still feel the burning of the fresh cuts.

I give my sister and my mom a hug and kiss goodbye before I get out of the car. Then I go to give my mom a hug and kiss. As I walk to the sideway, I wave goodbye.

My brother is waiting by the door being way too loud and annoying for the morning. He's my brother, I shouldn't say bad things about him but he is too much like... him. My dad, our dad. Sure he doesn't look anything like him but he acts like him.

"Shut up, Andre. It's too early in the morning for your crap." I say as I sit down and curl up into my little ball being careful of my arm. It hurts like hell but takes away the emotional pain. I wonder, is that what dad thought when he- No get that out of your head, Ana.

Out.

Of.

Your.

Head.

I hear keys and stand up to see one of the teachers opening the door for us. They say good morning. I throw on my traditional fake smile and say it back. I love the fact I have good amount of acting experience. I use it everyday.

Only a few teachers are here when my brother and me get here so we get couple of greetings as we come into the school. I smile as they pass and say good morning.

I think it's funny. I always hate fake people but look at me. I'm wearing the same leather jacket to cover my scars. I never really talk to people. Only select few knows about it but in person I act like nothing happen.

People say I act like I don't care what others think but that's not the case. I am mentally dead inside. When I feel as if it will get better it gets worse. I just don't talk to people or ignore what they have to say. Then I go home and break down.

Everyday is the same. I go along with it but what if one day I can't? To be honest, I am sick of pretending. I am sick of my little play I put on.

I push all the thoughts aside as I do my homework. Math, I hate math. My mom needs to stop nagging me about how I scored high on math when I was tested for the second time. I should be in college math but I can't memorize freaking theorems and postulates. Unless it is a song but who has a song for that.

I finish my homework and let the van people in. It's a simple but important job I have because it's getting colder. I don't want them to be cold and get sick from being outside too long.

Can I be honest? Of course I can, I mean, it is my story. Ok, here is the thing...

I hate school. No, I don't me like homework wise and stuff. I mean the socially point of view. I have no friends in my class. No one to be honest and just talk to about anything. And frankly, they all scare me.

You never know when you are being judged or talked about. As far as I know, no one talks about me really.

No one cares enough to. I am not important or someone people pay attention to. It doesn't help the fact I want to be someone to represent the class and speak highly of everyone's individual talents. No one cares to pick me as someone important or talented.

The popular people are always the ones important. The only important ones.

The other people don't matter. And at a small school there is a lot of popular people. I am one of the few that are not. For me, It just makes things worse for me. Knowing that I'm not special or important. What I do, anyone there can do better. Singing, dancing, writing, even acting.

This is my daily thoughts honestly just gets more into details over times.

I don't think I even need to say anything about my school day. I say hi to a few people with my usual fake smile write stories on my chromebook. I let my fake smile slip into a serious look.

Of course, it's still an act. This time to make it look as if I am focused on my notes. I'm not, I am just writing what comes to my head. Be it a song, a poem, a chapter for my book. Or just creating a new story.

I ate my apple at lunch. My mom can't complain that I didn't get anything today. Even if I don't eat supper or breakfast.

When school ends, I go to the car and we start heading home. My brother grabs the keys and opens the door. I head to my room turn on music and lay down. I hate leaving my room, let alone my house. I get up and head to the bathroom grabbing all of my stuff. The bathroom lights don't work so I bring my phone and chromebook as lights.

After my time in the bathroom I head back to my room to spend the rest of the night in. I stay up till ten thinking. Crying. Hurting. Around 11:30 I start to calm down and go to sleep.

I just want this to end.