Chapter 3

By the time I finished cleaning up, Mom had passed out on the couch in a deep, liquor induced sleep. I wrapped a towel around my throbbing head and padded up to my room. I flicked the light switch and my room filled with soft yellow light. My room was as plain as it gets. A memory foam mattress laid on the floor next to a table that held a clock radio and notebooks I use to write. The ceiling fan spun slowly overhead, creating a soft, cool breeze that soothed my head. The hard wood tile felt cool on my feet that ached from the walk home. My stomach grumbled, but I was too exhausted to care. I flopped down onto my welcoming bed. I turned on the clock radio connected to my old pink MP3 player. I drifted to sleep thinking about the man who helped me when I didn't need it. I hated what he did.