I pushed myself up, rubbing my eyes. I yawned, then went to the dresser to grab my clothes.
I walked into the bathroom to get ready for work.
I sat at the kitchen table, cutting a straw about four inches long. I walked toward the cabinet, grabbing a small dish, then set it onto the table. I pulled my wallet from my back pocket, taking out my credit card. I took a small bag out of my pocket and took a seat.
I untwisted the ends of the bag, pouring the white, powdery substance onto the dish. I twisted the bag closed, careful not to spill too much of the contents.
I used the credit card to chop the powder.
When I was finished, I shaped it into lines that were roughly an eighth of an inch wide and about five inches long.
I put an end of the straw into one of my nostrils, holding the other nostril closed with my left index finger. I sucked in through my nose while chasing the line with the straw.
All of a sudden, my father stepped into the house, suitcase in hand. He didn't even look at me.
My father would move in with other women quite often, leaving me to take care of myself and pay all the bills.
He never paid attention to me, only talking to me occasionally. And that was usually when he wanted something from me. He couldn't care less about what I did. He didn't even care if I were dead.
Sometimes, I'd wish he'd punish me. Then I'll know he loves me.
I'd rather be beaten every time I'd come in the house than going completely unnoticed. At least then, I'll know he knew I was there.
He dropped the suitcase onto the floor, then took a seat in the chair next to me at the kitchen table. "Hey."
"Hey." I set the straw down, rubbing my nose.
"Still on that, huh?"
I nodded. "Yeah."
"I thought you made it clear you were done with that."
"I did, too."
He chuckled, observing me. "Got anymore?"
I sniffed. "Yeah."
"Give me some."
I handed him the bag, then dizzily headed to the couch, laying down.