Status: hopefully I'll keep going :)

A Glass Half Empty

Hey, girl, you know you drive me crazy;

I was in a cold, cellar in the basement I've been living in for the past eight tortorous years of my life. The wall next to the my bed was black, and the other wall was white. The wall across from the black wall was black as well, and vice versa for the white wall. I hung my origami from the ceiling above my bed, for some color. There were also some pictures I'd took from my old polariod, my one passion besides music. The other three years, I had been living in an orphanage in Chicago. For now, I live in a suburb that no one knows about, outside of Chicago. It was freezing cold in here, and I had on no jacket, just a thin, red plaid shirt and jean wash skinny jeans. I was sitting cross legged on my bed, thinking about why no one could remember my 11th birthday, today, May 6th. I did not go to school, I was home schooled by my two, sadistic, foster parents. I had no friends, no outside life to contact, to keep me sane.
"Girl! Get up here right this second! Do you hear me? Now!" Mario screamed.
Great, what did I do this time? Sighing, I started my way up the steep, black and white staircase that led to the kitchen of my foster home. Opening the door, I carefully slid into the brightly lit kitchen, making my way to the living room. "Yes, father?" I called out, looking around the room, grateful for some form of heat for once. I hadn't been up here in a while.
"Heather!" Vivianne's voice rang out. She was the only one who treated me slightly like a human being. She had light brown curls cascading down her back stopping an inch above her elbow. Her green eyes were fierce, strong. Her pale skin was the only feature we shared, seeing as she was my foster mother, it didn't quite matter. Although, many a time we were percieved as family, to which she would treat me out to ice cream. What more could an eleven year old girl want?
"Yes, Vivianne? What do you need?" I spoke, quietly watching her from the sofa. A small rug a small size bigger than your average coffee table lay underneath it. The walls were painted a faint gold, almost orange color. There were two other chairs in the room, brown leather on either side of the couch. Focusing carefully, I could almost smell the faint, apple pie Mother was baking back in the kitchen.
Smack! The force of her hand upon my face was so hard, so loud, I was sure it would leave an echo."Are you listening to me? Your father and I wanted to go over the plan for this evening. Pay attention!" Vivianne scolded me, then ushered me to the seat next to her.
"Sorry, Mother. I'll pay attention more next time. I'm sorry, Father." I spoke, putting up my guard. I can't let my mind wander so much!
"As I was saying, friends from my work are coming over tonight, you know, Vivi, the Watson's? Well, there staying for dinner, and I would like to go over tonights game plan, if you will. Vivi, what will you be doing once the Watson's arrive?" Mario spoke, staring at my mother with almost, what was it? Love. It was love in his eyes, for the woman next to me.
"I will be in the living, room, waiting to greet them of course! Heather, what ghastly thing are you wearing?" Mother spoke, in her bell-like voice. She looked upon to me in disgust of my outfit.
"Only the clothes you gave me last Christmas, mother. If you'd like I can change into my New Year's Eve dress, the one you got me for your work party?" I spoke, softly. As usual, I would have to pretend as if I were perfectly content in my home. If only someone else knew what kind of hell they were leaving me in, I thought as I sighed lightly.
"Yes, yes I remember. Go take a shower, fix your appearance girl! The Watson's will be here in an hour." Mario said in a rush. Vivianne handed me a box, which I took gratefully. It was foundation to match my skin tone, to cover up the bruises and scars. Thank god.

I slid out of my seat, and began the journey up the stairs onto the first landing of our home. We lived in a somewhat wealthy neighborhood, but so near to the ghetto that not many genuinly rich folk were foolish enough to come here. So obviously not that many, and it wasn't any better a neighborhood. Just that the houses were nicer, cleaner. Modern.
I walked quickly to the hallway, to the second door on the right, opening it and grabbing a plain, white towel. Then, I went to the door across the hall, to the bathroom. I took a quick, but thorough, shower, letting the hot water warm my muscles and clean my cuts and bruises. I felt a stinging in my left leg, and thought miserably, right, that new cut from Friday, damn you Mario.
I rushed to put on my dress, spreading the mousse like foundation onto my legs to cover any imperfect marks. Then hurried with the see through tights and black, old converse. I couldn't wear heels to save my life.
I brushed my curiously white teeth, wondering when I'd have time to use the bathroom like this again. I hastily brushed and straightened my wet, naturally black hair. By the time I was done with my make up, it was 6:45pm. I wasted forty five whole minutes! I raced down the stairs, tripping slightly at the bottom step, and quickly brushed the hair out of my face, perfecting my appearance.
"Ah, there you are Heather dear! Now, I want you to be sitting here waiting to greet the Walker's once they walk into the living room, alright? If you do this well enough you won't have to starve for another week, fat ass!" Vivianne spoke.
I didn't understand why she always had to make comments on my weight. I was fat. I get it. I was five feet, 82 pounds. I know, disgusting! I was seriously contemplating whether or not to freak the Walker's out, why would I want to eat, a vile thing like me? Its not like I'd need the energy, what would I be doing? Freezing in a basement? Getting beat whenever Mario got drunk? Pfft, its not like I'm going to run. But I set aside those thoughts, carefully placing them in the 'Not To Be Spoken Of' file.
"Alright Heather, I can see there car just outside! Get ready to be the charming daughter we thought you'd be, when we saved you from the orphanage!" Vivianne called out, in the foyer. Saved? More like bribed with a promise of a family for myself, while settling on lots of money for Miss Swatson, the original orphanage owner.
The clock rang seven o'clock on the dot when the Watson's rang our door bell. Vivianne opened our door, a smile plastered onto her face as she did it.
The Watson's were one of the strangest people I'd ever met in all my eleven years of living.
♠ ♠ ♠
The dress:
http://www.wetseal.com/catalog/product.jsp?categoryId=104&productId=39721&color=BLACK/IVORY&altImageId=1

Heather's bedroom/cellar without the pretty girl. ;D

http://weheartit.com/entry/1981709