Ever since her mom commit suicide, life went downhill for Illani. Her Dad became a drunk, bills stopped being paid, and her best friend stopped coming to school. With ratty clothes, un showered skin, and a one dollar bill clutched in her hands, she buys a scratch-off ticket.

O~Chapter 1~O

I yanked my smelly hair out from my grimy neck with my hands. Pulling an elastic around the hair, I kept it out of my face as I placed the books back on the shelf.

"I thought they didn't let the homeless folk inside the library."

"I thought not, too. Grimy little thing, isn't she?"

I turned to the two inconsiderate old ladies who were gabbing about some one behind me. Oh- correction. They were talking about me. Their heartless comments halted as I met their gaze.

I am not homeless. Maybe a little under cared for; but certainly not homeless. Instead of remarking snarkily back to them (just like I wanted to so badly), I plastered a 'kind' smile on my face and asked, "Can I help you ladies find anything?" Both women looked startled, and scuttled away hurriedly.

I turned back to the shelves and rolled my eyes. I allowed my eyes to glance at the library's clock, which read 11:11 AM.

This meant two things; I had 49 minutes left of my shift, and I get to make a wish.

I wish for things to get better, and for Paul to talk to me again. I chanted silently in my head. My best friend had been at school this morning (freakin' finally! Boy has been out for weeks!), but I had to leave early because I had this shift to cover.

I get paid five dollars an hour from the Librarian, Ms. Pots, and work three hours every day. After this I used the water fountain here, and pat my grumbling belly and nibble on some old bread. Next, I work at a book store in Port Angeles until four in the afternoon. I walk there, and I have to admit- it takes me a while.

Around six O'clock I go to my next job and mow lawns for the people in La Push. I had found a battery powered mower in our garage, and charge it up for use the next day.

For a week or so, I actually used some of my money to buy food... yeah that only worked for a week or so. I can buy some bread at the market to treat myself sometimes and maybe a handful of protein shakes (Which sooo nasty... BLAH!), but most of my hard earned cash is stolen by my dad.

I ask the people who hire me for all of the money- day by day- so I can bring something home. I don't get hired by many because of my horrid hygiene, and demand for the money I have earned that day, on that day.

So as I walk home, I imagine the usual welcome I am faced with when I return home. I could practically feel the sharp pain in my back as I am thrown against the wall. He will ask for it all. All that money that I would have worked for the past few hours. If I don't give it to him, or don't give him enough, I get beaten harder. If I do, he lets me go to my room with a only couple of punches and some rough shoves.

Deep breathes, Illani.

I stopped by Paul's house and sat on the front stoop as I wrote my letter.

By the end, my ink was almost out. A deep frown came onto my weary face. I'd have to by a new one. A could set aside a dollar or two from the stack i have to give to my dad, I think. I mean, I should really be buying more food for myself, you know, just setting aside a couple of dollars for some fruits or veggies. But, my dad would smell food, or see me with an actual smile on my face and punish me more then usual.

I folded my sheet of paper with the letter on it, more frustrated then I had been in a while, and stuffed it half-way under the door. My letters to Paul became alike a journal. I wrote about my day- always sure to sugar coat it for him- and leave it for him to read.

I finished my journey home, and-like always- tried the window to my bedroom for easy entrance and no abuse. But, like always, it was locked.

My dad must have some time sober, so he had the thought to lock it so he could let his anger out on me. I tried all the other windows, and finally resorted to using the front door.

"Illllllawnie!" My father's slightly drunken voice called.

I made no noise, just held out my palm with all of the money I had earned (Minus, of course, the money for a new pen.)

He counted the bills in silence.

"How many lawns today?"

"One." I lied. He would know that I had kept the two dollars if I told him I had mowed two lawns today.

"Don't lie to me, you stupid girl. You wouldn't have been gone that long if you only had to mow one lawn." My dad sneered.

I pulled one of the two dollars out of my pocket, but folded it to make it look like two when I handed it to him.

"That's my girl. Now, I'll be home with a guest later; so I don't want any funny business, you got that?" He stated menacingly. "Good." And just when I thought I would go un-punched tonight, he socked me, right in the gut. With an oof I went down to my knees, clutching where his fist had hit me. My glasses clattered to the floor.

My dad's shoe came down on my ribs. Then on my leg, and finally on my left arm. Silent tears rolled down my face, and I dragged myself to my room.

I undressed myself until I was only in a bra and underwear, and crawled into my bad smelling bed. I closed my eyes and pretend that it didn't hurt.

The next day at school, Paul wasn't there. But Jared was; and Paul had been with Jared yesterday! Excitement bubbled within me. I made my way over to him, wearing an extremely baggy sweatshirt, and large jeans that had stains all over them (Oh the perks of being dirt poor!)

"Hi. Have you seen Paul today?" My eyes started at my feet, and made their way to his eyes. They held pity. I hated pity.

"Uh- Illani, right?" I nodded. So Paul had told him about me! "Listen, Paul wanted me to tell you something." Really? YES!

"He wanted me to say, 'I can't see you anymore. We're just too different.'" Jared pursed his lips and walked away.

Too different? The FUCK! HE HASN'T TALKED TO ME IN WEEKS! No. NO! What. The. Hell?! Forget school! I scoffed to myself.

I stormed right off campus and wrote Paul a letter. Damn Paul. Damn him. I shoved the note with extra forced under his door, not caring if half was showing or not. I used the last of the pen, then, and threw it on his doorstep.

I stormed to the local Seven Eleven. Maybe I could buy a slurpee. I'd get myself a coke one.

There is no reason to work anymore; I don't make any profit. There is no reason to save myself from my father's beatings; my best friend doesn't want me anymore.

I would find a way to contact my Grandmother. To hell if Dad found out. At least I'd have my slurpee.

$1.24. That's how much a fucking slurpee cost. I felt tears in my eyes, and heard the chime of a customer entering the store.

Blinking back what tears I could, I walked to the counter and surveyed the scratch-offs.

"Uh- Can I have this one?" I pointed through the glass at one that could win 'Up to 5 Million Dollars!' (I made sure it was ONE dollar...).

"Sorry, hun. Gotta be 18 or older." Just my freaking luck. I bowed my head in defeat and turned to leave.

"I'll buy it for her." A man's voice from behind me stated. I turned in awe to see an old man in a wheeled chair.

"I'm Billy." He introduced himself to me. "Here ya go." He took the dollar from my hand and plopped it on the counter. I suppose he took my bill, so if I actually did win anything, it was mine- and I would know it.

"Alright, sir." The cashier took the dollar and gave him the scratch-off card.

"Here." Billy had a crinkly smile.

"I'll give you 50%." I cracked a smile as I said this. I wasn't going to win anything, but I still felt the need to inform him of it.

"I won't hold you to anything." Billy chuckled. I used my nail to scratch off the numbers.

My deep brown eyes widened and my jaw went slack.

AN! Please tell me how it went :P And, if ya'll could; I need some help on the whole part about the money making for Ilani, and how this whole abuse thing works... so please either PM me, or review to give some pointers on how to make it believable and realistic.

-Lilsis321 OUT!