I live in a nice house. With a nice family. On the outside.

On the inside, we're all full of shit. A dad who don't give a fuck. A mom who is controlling. And a brother who doesn't want anything to do with me. Yeah. A real nice family.

I, an apparent whiny bitch, go along with my family, putting on a pretty lil' face as everything falls to shit. God, I hate my life. But still, I smile. Smile as my mom gets the shit beat out o her. Smile has my dad drowns in his sorrow. Smile as my brother runs off with his shitty friends. And smile, a special smile, at my lack of a life. I smile even when I want to rip this city apart. Oh, is that a camera? Don't forget to smile, Bobbie.

That's another thing, who the fuck names their girl Bobbie? Like, thanks mom and dad for all the troubled middle school years. Why couldn't they have named me something normal? Like Elizabeth or Ashley. It would have helped a lot.

Here I sit, stuck in the middle of Traffic beside Vespucci Beach wondering if I even wanna go home. Would they miss me? Doubt it. How hard would they look? Probably wouldn't even break a sweat.

Clicking on my blinker, I pulled into a parking lot meant for the beach, and thought "What the hell? Might as well have a few hours of peace." I climbed out of my car and headed down the water. I feel so out of place. I haven't been to the beach in forever. Months. I just stay cooped up in the house all day, I have forgotten how other people acted.

For instance, I forgot not to the let your guard down at the beach. Boys will attack. And girls, especially this girl, will react viciously. Every girl should carry a pocket knife around to chase the naughty boys away...even if they call the cops. This one, thank God, did not.

I stayed there on the beach just walking from one end to the other until the sun set. Then I realized I was in deep shit. I needed to get home.

I raced home and burst through the doors of our beach house to find...absolutely nothing. Not a fucking soul. I haven't broken curfew for two years, and when I do, nobody is here...call it luck?

I climbed the to my room wishing someone was hear to yell at me. For someone to act like a parent. We all just walk around like nothing is wrong. Doesn't anyone else feel it? See it? Doesn't anyone else live it? Surely Mom does. And dad. And Josh. So I'm not alone situation wise...just in everything else.

I fell asleep as soon as my head hit my pillow.

I woke the next morning to find the house trashed and my mom and dad passed out drunk on the couch. And about five people passed out on the floor. Annnd a few in the kitchen. Oh, and let's not forget the three brave souls passed out on the floats in the pool. Drunk bastards.

I showered and returned an hour later to the living to find, no surprise, everyone still there. How the fuck did I not hear them last night? Damn.

I grabbed my keys and left. I drove down to the peer and gazed out at the ocean. I spent most of my day just staring at the sea. Thinking about diving in from the very end of the peer. And just keep swimming and swimming. *sigh*. Every troubled teen's dream. \

I turned around just in time to be knocked over the edge. I don't think I screamed. I just remember hitting the water and the overwhelming urge to knock the shit out of whoever knocked me over. When I finally emerged from under water, I heard male screams getting closer and closer until one landed in the water beside me. He came up moments later gasping for air. Drunk. Just my luck.

The drunk man spit water out and a whole string of curse words. "Fuck. How the fuck?" When he spotted me swimming back to the shore, he rushed after me. Poor drunk dude. He is really struggling. I fully intended to leave him behind, I swear. But, me being the kind person I am *evil giggle* , just couldn't.

I reached for his arm, slinging it up around my shoulders, and held him up as I ,slowly, swam back to the shore. As soon as we were laying on the beach, me trying to catch my breath and him throwing his guts up, I realized I should have left him. The little shit did push me over, after all.

He started to stand, words slurring, and I reached in my pocket and pulled out my knife. I held it up, just in case.

The drunk dude laughed. "What? You think that's going to stop me if I wanted to hurt you? You're cute, sweet cheeks." He stumbled forward and I took a step back. He almost fell but caught himself. Damn. I needed a laugh. Oh well.

"Fuck it. You. You ain't worth it, bitch." He slurred and stumbled a few ways before hitting the ground.

*sigh* Just leave him, Bobbie. He called you a bitch...but the poor guy could die or something. I have enough on my mind, I don't need a drunk asshole's death on my hands.

I walked over to him and helped him up. "Come on, big guy." He tried to fight me but he almost fell again,s so he just went with it.

"Ya know, it just might be the booze talking, but you're pretty damn hot, sweet cheeks. Maybe we can go for a ride sometime." Ew. I think he slobbered a little on "Sometime."

When we got to the road, I held him long enough to get him in a cab. I shut the door and the cab driver lowered the drunk dude's window. "So tell me, Dude, where do you live?"

The man seemed lost in thought for a moment until he finally shrugged and turned to face me. "I don't remember. Plus, I don't have any money."

"I'll pay the fee if you just tell me where the fuck you live."

"I. Don't. Fucking. Know." He grumbled. More like growled. Asshole.

I sighed as I opened the door. "Get out." I ordered. He rolled out of the car and landed at my feet. I turned to the cab driver. "I'm sorry to waste your time. Here's a twenty."

The old man shook his head at my offering. "No, miss. You have your hands full with him." I smiled and thanked him. "Have a safe night, young lady." I nodded and he drove off.

Turning back to the drunk asshole swaying about, I slung my arm around him once again and headed toward the parking lot. "So, If I'm going to keep dragging you around, I should at least know your name."

"Trevor."He grumbled. He doesn't seem too happy being drug around by a helpless young girl at night. I mean, what guy would? Sheesh. "What's your name, princess?" Trevor asked.

"Bobbie." I shuffled along. Damn. Did he suddenly gain ten pounds. I looked down at his feet and stopped. "Hey! You have to fucking pick up your feet, asshole."

He let go of me. "Don't fucking call me an asshole, you little shit!" He took a swing at me but he fell flat on his face. Ouch. Is that a bloody nose? Wince Yeah. Yea it is.

I crouch down and looked him in the eye. "Now. I'm trying to help you. I'm going to put you in my fucking car and we are going to my fucking house where you will sober up. And then you will leave. And you better not steal anything."

Slowly getting up, I could have sworn I heard him mumble," Yes, mom." Asshole.

Finally, we made it to my car.

Two pukes and thirty minutes later, we arrived at my house. It was close to eleven so everybody was asleep. Thank God it was Thursday. There were no parties on Thursdays. Family rule.

It was a challenge getting Trevor up the stair and into my room, but I managed. His clothes were pretty much dry now so at least I wouldn't have to worry about him ruining my bed...MY bed. The one he fucking passed out on. Great. I get to sleep on the floor.

I took one look at this dude and fear I have made a huge mistake. His clothes were stained from only God knows what, and it looked like that little dip in the ocean was the only bath his has had in days. Not wanting this man crawling out of my room in the morning, I locked all my windows and doors,for once in my life grateful for the key lock in every one. (Thank you, over paranoid dad!) I stuffed the key in my bra. This dude wasn't leaving until I wanted him to.

I walked over and yanked my pillow out from under Trevor's head, and settled down on the floor as far away from the man as I could get. I soon fell asleep.