The house was filled with nothing but the sound of my own breathing. My brother normally isn't home around this time. (He’s a surgeon) I dig through the fridge to find a hot pocket waiting for me. My stomach aches with anticipation, as I pop it into the microwave. The heat radiating off of the machine, warms my cold, numb fingers. I feel a headache start to come on from the long day. It hums in rhythm with the microwave. Since both of my parents would have to work to save up money, and my brother started working to achieve his dreams, there's never been any time for me. My head pulses with the thought that I'm not wanted anywhere. I'm a little girl again, and I had witnessed my parents fighting.

"She's not normal Mike! " I had heard my mother yell.

I was told to go to my room because I fought with another class mate. I had asked to play football with the other kids, but one of them said that girls couldn't play football, so I punched him. Mother was furious. Not because I punched another student. Because I wanted to play football.

"Its okay dear, she's just curious."

I peek out the door of my room to see my mother crying and my father's arms wrapped around her in comfort.

"Little girls don't play football, and have you noticed how she dresses? She wears her brother's clothes!"

The beeping of the mini oven interrupts my thoughts.

The next day was quite an interesting one. I woke up in complete silence. I picked out a sweater that would make feel like I was being swallowed from existence and stuffed a pair of jeans on to me slim legs. Climbing up the stairs, I found out that my brother wasn’t anywhere to be seen; Probably arguing with the neighbors again. Checking the time I found out that I woke up on time to have a cup of coffee today. I opened the achromatized cupboard, and reached for the closest mug. It’s smooth edge presses into my palm. I start to prep the water, and my mind drifts to the boy from yesterday. Who was he? An image of his proportional smile enters my mind's eye. The boy turns around, and just frowns. Before I can ask what's wrong. I snap back to reality by the sting on my wrist. I find little splinters of glass in my arm. The floor is stained with a wine like substintes. Mentally cursing myself out, I race to the untouched closet, and swing it open. It squeaks on its hinges, and slams into the wall with a loud bang. As I gather the broom, and mop, the front door opens, and John comes sneaking in. When his eyes land on me, his complexion goes pale, and he rushes over to me, in a hurry. Tripping over a chair in the process. He grabs my hand and presses his fingers down hard.