Forever Broken Nostalgic Mannequins

BEEPBEEPBEEP!
The annoying ring of my alarmclock screamed from the nightstand set to the right of my bed. I groaned and threw the alarm clock at the wall and then rolled over hoping to get just a few minutes of sleep in, seeing as I hadn't gotten any that night. I ran out of my sleeping meds for my insomnia. Just as I thought I might fall into a light slumber, my mother barged in. "You are going to be late for school and I am not calling in your tardy so you better get your sorry ass up." she said as she turned around and headed downstairs towards the kitchen. A normal loving mother would go into the kitchen to make their daughter some breakfast before she merrily made her way to work. HA! That was NOT what my mother was going to do, oh no. She was going to go to the heavily supplied liquor cupboard take a few shots of jack daniels before she dragged her skank ass down to a strip club somewhere in the scummy depths of Las Vegas, where she would sell herself for money. Most people would pity her, oh that poor woman a struggling single mother just trying to put food on the table for her precious daughter. No she hated me. She never fed me. I have been fending for myself since I was bearly thirteen. She blamed me for my dickhead father leaving. I guess it was my fault, but I couldn't help it. It's not my fault that he knocked my mother up, that he wasn't ready for commitment. How was it my fault that he was so scared of being a father that like a beaten dog he stuck his tail between his legs and hightailed it out of here. I don't know if I really blame him though. I can't picture my mom being in love, or having a husband, I can't even imagine myself sitting at a dinner table eating a meal together.

Is it sad that I have never known that, I have never experienced the love of a family. Even when I was little my mother would 'accidently' forget me in the store, and come back an hour later. When I was four years old, she had failed to call a sitter for me while she went out to the strip to get shitfaced. So she left me there by myself, scared to death. There was thunder and lightning that night and I remember the feeling as clear as day. The emptiness that never left me. I knew even at the age of four, I knew that I was alone, and would never earn my mother's love. I still tried, I tried to make her proud, just one time I wanted her not to regret, not having an obortion. Eventually I stopped trying.

I thrusted my legs over the edge of my bed making the old springs creak. My feet went numb when they met the cold harwood floor. I always loved everything cold because it was numbing. I walked into the small bathroom that was connected to my room and locked the door. I stripped myself of clothing and then slipped into the shower. Although I do like the cold, I always take seering hot showers. I wash away the pain, hate, hurt, and so much more. Heat can be just as numbing as the cold if you make it hot enough. After the shower ran cold I shut it off and stepped out, wrapped in a soft black towel. I threw on a pair of ripped up skinny jeans along with an old Papa Rpach bandtee, with hightop black converse. With a checkered belt that clasped like a seatbelt. I put in some black snakebites, and then started applying make up which consisted of heavy eyeliner and black eye shadow. I glared at the dark circles that layed prominent under my eyes, the contrast against my sickly pale skin making it stand out any more. I sighed and straightened my shoulder length layered black hair that held crimson streaks. I let my bangs hang over my left eye, in their place. Brushed my teeth. I walked back out of my bathroom into my bedroom. I took one look over of myself in the full-lengthed mirror that was mounted on my closet door. And then grabbed my black and white jacked that had major city names written all over it along with my poor beat up ipod that was way outdated and over used but still alive. I jammed the headphones into my ears as I made my way down the stairs. My mother had just finished her morning alcohol and was smoking a ciggarette in the kitchen. She glared at me with such hate that I wish I could just disapear. She took in my appearence with disgust, that was another thing she hated about me, she hated my look, she always wanted a daughter who obsessed over apperance, who shopped at hollister, and all that shit. Who was a cheerleader who dates the quaterback, but that just is NOT me and never will be.

I sighed and walked out the front door. No 'goodbyes' or 'have a nice days' were said. Nothing. I began my walk to school. I have a driver's license but can't afford a car. So six blocks of walking was what it took to get to school every morning, but I didn't mind it too much. This was the start of an average day in the life of Skylar Leah Raine.