Just Believe In Me

Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep-Beep
I slammed my fist down on top of my alarm clock, already annoyed. Stretching, I sat up, stumbling out of my bed, heading towards the bathroom. About halfway down the hall, my mind registers the lump of something sitting by my bookshelf. I quietly tiptoe back into my room, flicking the light on and discovering my mother passed out on the hardwood floor of my room.

See, this always happens, She'll have a night of drinking, and most likely sex, sometimes in the house, and she'll come home insanely drunk or high and pass out in a random place around the house. And I'm the one who gets to clean her up. Fun, right?

I gently pull my mother's thin blonde hair out of her face and lift her up, moving her to my bed. I roll my eyes as I pull the covers up over her. With light steps, I creep over to my dresser, pulling out some clean clothes , making my way back to the bathroom.

Finally dressed, I creep into my room, grabbing my bag, glasses and cell phone, Only to have my mother rustle from her sleep and look at me, confusion written on her face. I stop tiptoeing, and watch her rub her eyes and look down at herself, noticing a yellowish stain on her dark purple tank top. She always dresses like she's 20 years old. Although, that tends to happen when you have a kid at 17 years old, feeling the urge to be a “teenager” again, looking like a sleazy whore as a result.

“Kassandra?” I hear her whisper, causing me to cringe at my full name. I absolutely hated it, but it was the only thing she'd call me, refusing to use Kodi. I sigh and step towards her, stopping about a foot in front of her. “Did you bring me in here?” She asks me, her voice hoarse and raspy, due to the amount of alcohol she'd consumed earlier.
“Yes. You were passed out.” I tell her, “Over there.” I point and she nods.

“Thank you.” She says to me, and I try to not look at her, stepping back over to my door and grabbing my bag.

“Do you need help into your room?” I ask her and she shakes her head, standing from the bed. She stumbles and I drop my stuff, running over and steadying her. She lets out a sob and clutches onto the back of my hoodie. I rub her back and let her cry into my shoulder.
I used to get mad at her, but now I just feel bad when I see her this way.

And this happens almost every time nowadays. She'll wake up from her drunken sleeping state, cry all over me and I'm forced to help her in the shower, making breakfast and everything else she needs to do in the morning before work. Making me late, just about everyday. And I'm always pissed whenever I get the chance, due to the fact that nobody's ever here to help me.

By the time I was done getting my mom showered, fed and dressed, I was about 15 minutes late and probably missed my bus. Seething, I practically run the 3 miles towards my school, making it in time to get to my locker.

-End Kodi's POV-

I leaned against my locker, waiting for the bell to sound. An empty feeling was conjugating in the bags under my eyes, thanks to fact that I didn't sleep at all last night.

"Dude, what's up with you?" My wild eyed friend laughed, staring pointedly at my mangled hair, and fucked up eyeliner.

"Fuck you," I growled, generally pissed off at the world I didn't get to lay in my bed once last night. He just laughed some more holding his hands up defensively. Luckily, he knew me better than that, and knew when to leave me alone. He just opened the locker we shared, and stuff his more than likely empty back back into it. See, he had this idea that our band was going to make it big, so he didn't give a damn about his grades. He was probably going to drop out before he saw his senior year.

"Come on, kid." He beckoned me further down the hall after he finished rummaging around our mess. I just glared at his nickname, pretty sure it was a shot at my height. I was a good 3 inches shorter than him, and he thought it meant I was tiny, so he shot every short joke he could think of at me. Asshole.

I just stuffed my hands roughly in my pockets, as my knees ached tiredly after him. He was singing one of the songs we were working on loudly down the hall, always feeling the need to make a scene where ever he went. Normally it didn't bother me, but head was beginning to throb, and his squeaky voice wasn't helping any cause.

"Dude, shut the hell up." I groaned, reaching up to grab a handful of my black, matted locks.
"Aww, is it that time of the month again?" He grinned, ruffling my hair making me want to snap his fingers. I just glared, and continued without him. He didn't mind though, just caught up, still singing way too loud.

Now, I don't know about you, but when I go to school in the morning, I don't really expect to get shit thrown at me. But that's what was happening this morning. I was walking past a locker, and a fucking messenger bag collided with my rib cage.
A fucking messenger bag.

"WHAT THE HELL?" I snapped, glaring daggers in the direction the bag had come from. I found a girl with a thin frame starring back like a deer in headlights. The contents of the bag were sprawled over the floor, but that was the last thing on my mind.

"Oh man, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to hit you, I'm having a really shitty morning." She muttered, bending down to pick up her things. She was having a shitty morning? I'll show her shitty.

"Are you fucking serious? What the hell were you thinking?!" I lashed out, not bothering to help her. With that she glared up at me as she got back up.

"Dude. I said I was fucking sorry. What is your problem?" Her jawline was noticeably strained, and her blue eyes were sharp behind her over-sized glasses.

"You are." I spat.
She scrunched her nose up at me, and put her hands on hips like it was supposed to scare me. My friend had finally stopped laughing at the whole situation, and grabbed my arm.
"Sorry about him, pretty lady, it's that time of the month." He wiggled his eyebrows at her, make a smile tug unwillingly at her lips. He had a way of doing that; his goofy grin was contagious no matter how upset you were.

I was starting get immune at this point.

He drug me away from the scene that was about to talk place, and let go of my arm. He looked at me for a moment, the look in his eyes giving it away that he wasn't exactly happy with me.

That was alright.
I wasn't happy with the rest of the world.
So we're even.