The Never Coming True Dream

~*~Evangline's Point Of View ~*~

I walked all the way home. It started to rain after a while so when I got home, I was soaked through. It wasn't like my parents cared anyways.
I walked up the stairs and slung my bag across the floor, making alot of my stuff fall over, I didn't care. I stared at my phone, Danny still hadn't replied...I guess I knew that was going to happen...I wish I hadn't ruined it all by pulling the guy back and kissing him so much...
I really think I like him...
I pushed my Ipod into my stand, and let lose some SlipKnot. I rose the volume to full and walked to my wardrobe. My head bounced to the music as I grabbed hold of old baggy clithes that I would never be seen dead in.
I pulled off my dirty clothes, pulling on the clean old one's without looking at myself. I absolutely hated how I looked. Yes I was really skinny, and I'm sure alot of girls in school would say they wanted my figure if they weren't so freakish about me, but I hate it.
I walked over to my computer, pressing it on and walking back to grab a drawing pad, pencil and a rubber. Never go out without a rubber, it'll be a bad bad thing if you did.
I sat down when it all loaded and searched through search engines, trying to find something I could get an idea from...the things from my head would be way to dark and creepy, Mrs Brime always wishes I could draw something nice and fluffy...not my fault I'm always troubled.
The picture I found was of a girl sitting by a gravstone, her arms holding her weeping frame as she watched the letters on the grave...
I felt sorry for her, yet it was only a drawing. I took the crying figure in mind and started to draw. The pencil flew across the paper and soon the drawing was finished. Her eyes with tears falling down her cheeks, sitting on a rock with the moon behind her. Her legs with clutched to her chest as she looked at me...she was so sad.
I turned the page, throwing the bad to the floor and covering my eyes with my hands. I shouldn't want to cry because of a drawing. My mind started rushing through my whole life, how I was always the one child in a corner crying, why I always got picked on for being different...(how different is it that a girl pulls the heads of other girls Barbie dolls and then drowns them in the bathroom sinks).
I moved onto the floor, pulled my knees close to my chest, holding them there till i couldn't breathe right and just...cried. I cried so hard my heart was bonding in my head, my tears were starting to hurt when they fell.
I had been crying for over half an hour straight before I heard my mum call dinner. I stood up slowly, walked over to my wall mirror and hissed at my reflection,

"You should really sort yourself out" I told her, she just looked at me blankly before disappearing as I walked away.

Downstairs I sat at the dinner table. I kept quiet so I didn't draw attention I really didn't want or need from both my parents or Ryan.
I heard Ryan's loud thumps of footsteps coming down the stairs, every one making my insides jump. He was really really loud for a 9 year old...
I closed my eyes tight when my dad walked in, I could smell and feel the alcohol coming off him. I wasn't going to get away from this without a shouting...I wish I lived somewhere else, I wish I could be free.
My mum walked in then with our plates full. I felt sick just staring at them...guess that's why I was going to get moaned at. My mum left it infront of me, and I did a good job of moving it around my plate, seriously...even people in jail wouldn't eat my mum's cooking, it's awful,

"Evangline, eat your food!" my dad boomed at me,

"I'm not hungry" I whispered, pushing the plate away from me,

Ryan grabbed his knife and fork to nick some of my dinner, but this time he was too slow. My dad grabbed the side of it and pushed it, hard, towards me again,

"Eat your god damn food!!" he shouted,

I breathed in, and then out again. All of this over not being hungry...I wish I was dead. But then I wouldn't get to see Danny...yeah, he's never going to want to talk to me again anyway.
I pushed my dinner away from me and ran up the stairs. I knew my dad would follow, but he wouldn't find me. I slammed my door shut, locking the flimsy lock quickly before grabbing my bag, running to my wardrobe and shoving about a few days worth of clothes before grabbing my ipod, charger (even though I don't think I'd be charging it soon), my phone and my diary.
My dad's fist came through my door and I screeched in horror, he was over the top angry...I had to get out of here. I looked at my window and my mind was already made up, I was going that way.

"Get out here now!" he bellowed on the otherside of my door,

I grabbed hold of the window and pulled it open, pulling one leg over and grabbing my bag tightly. As my other leg went over, my dad got through. He stared at me, his eyes burning with so much hate for me being born, for me just hanging on here, running away once again.
I let go of the sill and dropped. It hurt on the landing but as I got my feet working I just ran.
I ran from my house, my arms moving quickly by my sides, pushing me all that further away from the horrible house I hated being in. My dad's voice could be heard from miles...yet i didn't once look back...I was never going back there again.