Alice groaned, throwing her feet out of bed angrily as her alarm clock wailed. She was tempted to throw it across the room, but, like every morning, she resisted the urge. Alice was a pretty fifteen-year-old girl, with long, straight, dirty-blonde hair, sharp gray eyes and a thin, gracious form. She was the spitting image of her mother, Chloe, who had been a drug abuser for more that 17 years. But despite expectations, Alice was a perfectly healthy, independent teenager.
"Mom!" Alice yelled as she emerged from her room, assuming her mother wouldn't be awake yet. She moved to the kitchen and started making breakfast for the two of them. There was no father figure in the family, and there hadn't been since before she was born. Both Alice and Chloe had learned to accept this.
"Mom, get up, breakfast is almost ready!" Alice screeched. The clock on the microwave read 6:52. After a minute of waiting for a response, Alice began to get annoyed with her mother's lack of ambition. "Mom?" Alice called again, and left the package of bacon she'd opened on the table to find her mother.
The house was silent as Alice's nimble body navigated through piles of clothing and filth. The place was a mess, as always. Alice paused, her hand on the doorknob of her mother's room. Something felt wrong.
"Mom?" Alice called gently, twisting the knob. It was stuck, or locked, she wasn't sure which. Alice took the key she carried with her from around her neck and tried it. The door opened, as Alice had hoped it wouldn't. If the door was locked, it meant only one thing; her mother was using again. Alice sucked in a shaky breath.
The room was dark and filthy, and there was a certain smell to it that Alice felt no amount of Oust or Lysol could fix. Alice gulped, scanning the room for her mother, and found her soon enough. Chloe was folded into a corner of the small bedroom, a haunting look on her face. Her eyes stared at floor blankly, her mouth curled into a pained smile. There was a needle in her arm, and she wasn't moving at all. Alice's eyes brimmed with tears, hating what she was seeing but unable to deny it.
"Mom." She whispered, kneeling by her mother's side. She pulled the needle from her mother's arm almost violently and stared at the smile on her mother's face. She was happy to leave me, Alice thought, and her mouth opened, releasing a deafening high-pitched scream. She wouldn't stop screaming for hours, and soon after the incident a neighbor would find Alice curled into a ball facing her mother, rocking back and forth, hysterical.
Chloe Booth was dead, and Alice Booth felt more alone than ever.
I don't know if I like this preface, but I thought it was necessary. Questions will be cleared up in the next chapter. Review, please!