I love how I've been gone for months and I give you something completely irrelevant to what I have already posted.

Title from the song For Baltimore by All Time Low.

Michelle (Mickey) = Seychelles Age 12
Matthew = Canada Age 18
Alfred = America Age 21


"You know it's seven, right?"

"Yeah, I've been staring at the clock for hours. I know what time it is."

I poke my head from under fluffy, white sheets. Right away, the sun hits my face and I squint. All I can see is this illuminated figure that is my sister Mickey. Her back is hunched as she peers at me. Her hair is decent. It's not brushed very well because there are wild strands of hair sticking out from all over. She added a torn red ribbon to it though. It was probably to distract people from all the noise going on in the back. I noticed she put on her sweater instead of her sweater vest. She only ever does that when she doesn't iron her shirt. She's falling into that I don't care about my physical appearance nor how people view me trap that I fell into when I was her age. I don't like it.

"Then you should be getting up. If you get ready now, you should have enough time to make your bus." Her voice is very wary. It bounces up and down. "Maybe you should worry about yourself," I say. "You've been in my business for the last couple weeks now. Why?"

"Because I care about you, big brother." I hear a tiny voice say. I snort. "Since when?"

"Ever since I heard Mom talk about kicking you out." She looks away from me. "She says you don't contribute around here. And how you spend all your money on your girlfriend. And how you disrespect her and Hellspawn." Mickey sighs. Her cheeks have a light tint.

I've heard this before. She's been talking about it since I was 16. I thought I could stir her off topic by getting a job. That way I could used the money to buy my own clothes and food so she wouldn't have to. She gave me an unending number of reasons on why she disagreed with this. I've never heard the girlfriend excuse though. I also thought I'd be best to stay out of her way. I only talked to her if it was important, like getting my report card signed or something. Apparently, in Mommyland, avoidance = disrespect. I can never make her happy.

"Well," I start pinching her cheeks. "Don't worry your pretty little heart. She won't kick me out. She doesn't have the guts to. And if it'll make you happy, I'll go to school today."

"Really?" She pulls my hands off. "You're, like, one of the two people I actually care about so yeah. Whatever. Now get out of my room so I can get dressed."

"Right. Okay!" She lights up again and skips out of the room. Adorable.

When I go downstairs, I see Mickey walking around impatiently. "It's 7:27. We should have left 7 minutes ago."

"We have enough time. Besides, the bus driver waits for us, you know that." I say, fixing my shirt cuffs. "Why don't you go ahead and I'll catch up with you?"

She nods. I straighten out my sweater vest then head to the kitchen to grab a water bottle. While walking, I trip on this orange fabric on the floor. I land flat on my face. "Ow-fuck!" I awkwardly turn on my side and reach for whatever I tripped on. Its was a ninja turtle mask. Fucking Hellspawn.

Hellspawn, as Mickey mentioned before, is my 3-year old stepbrother, Peter. Step brother is a title too good for him, so we call him Hellspawn instead. He is not a normal 3-year old. He stills drinks out of a bottle made for infants, he still wears diapers and he's a mental narcissistic that loves bringing emotion pain to people. An exact offshoot of my mother. He's the product of a very short-lived marriage between my mother and this Dutch guy named Lars.

I remember when I first met Lars. I was 13 and Mom was so eager for us to meet him. She said he was the nicest guy she had met in a while. She got us all dressed up and drove us to this fancy restaurant. I remember in the car, Al, Mickey and I made a pact to be as awkward as possible. We were to answer his questions with one-word answers and ask him weird questions about his personal life. It worked for a while until Mom dragged us to the bathroom and lectured us on what and what not is appropriate to say to a guest.

Anyway, 8 months later came the "We're getting married!" and a couple months after that "You're getting a new baby brother!"

That whole period of time was extremely hazy for me. I never did form an opinion on Lars. I didn't care when he came and I didn't care when he left. I did, however, care about the mess he left behind. Fuck him, honestly.

"Dude, I can see the bus turning the corner from here. Hurry it up!" Mickey calls out to me.

It seems like Mickey is the only one keeping the wheels turning nowadays.