One-shots.

Valerie's the name. Everyone has given up on me, to summarize my life. My dad left when I was four. All my life, I've heard "I give up on you, Valerie." The only person I've never heard it from was my mother. She was the only one who believed in me. Too bad she passed away six years ago, when I was ten. I live in a foster home now, with nine other children and foster parents who have high expectations. Ace all my classes, join a sport, make a friend. Things I don't care about. I haven't genuinely smiled in a while, therefore I'm classified as emo. People talk shit about me all the time. The only person who I can actually talk to is my foster sister, Alison.

She's blonde, perfect, and abandoned. Her parents are alcoholics. She suffers from bulimia. She irks me, how perfect people perceive her. It irks me how she never talks to me at school. Alison was popular. I wasn't. So, she wasn't allowed to be in contact from me. It's not like I have an STD, calm yourselves.

After school today, I immediately walked back home. I still didn't have my drivers license. Debbie and Victor still didn't trust me. I've been living with them for five years. Can't I have a little bit of freedom? I mean, Alison could drive. She had her own car. She basically took over our room.

And she's more fucked up than me.

They act like Alison is so perfect, they have her up on this pedestal.

--

At two in the morning, I woke up with the bathroom light blinding my eyes. I got up from bed, and rubbed my eyes. "Alison?" I whispered.

"Valerie?" She called out, her voice breaking.

"Are you..."

"Yes!" She cried.

I kneeled down next to her, "But... I thought you stopped years ago."

"I never stopped, Valerie. I always snuck to the bathroom to do this," she shook, "I want to be perfect."

"But you are..."

"NO I'M NOT!" she snapped at me. "You don't know what it's like... To be me. You don't know how it is. You don't know how to balance keeping your grades up. You don't know how to hide the alcohol breath from mom and dad."

"You drink?" I said softly.

"It's one of the perks being me." she said.

"Listen, Alison, you don't HAVE to be this way."

"No, Valerie. I absolutely HAVE to be this way. I can't go back to being fat. I can't. I can't go back to being a loser. I can't go back to being... like you."

"What?" I was taken aback by what she just said. "I hope you fucking have a nice life, ruining your esophagus. You bitch." I spat out.

"Fuck you," she said, then she turned back to the toilet to puke.

I couldn't help but feel a little bit guilty. After all, Alison was my only friend.

But if she was a bitch, then so was I.

--

The next day, I walked into English class. "Good morning Ms. Thomsen." My teacher slammed my report on my table. B+.

I got a B+. I looked through my rubric sheet. "Too much errors." It said in red pen, and circled. I buried my face in my hands.

"Oh, look, emo girl got a B! What a sad life she lives." Diane Torres, the most popular girl in the school said in a fake tone.

I turned around to her, and decided that she wasn't worth it.

The bell rang. I ran out of first period. Diane was still taunting me. Calling me names. I finally snapped. "Do you have a fucking problem?" I said.

"With many people. One of them being you."

I got close to her face, cornering her at a locker. "Listen. If you ever say shit to me again, you're dead. I fucking swear."

"Oh, I'm scared." she said fakely.

I couldn't handle it anymore. I pushed her. More like shoved. "FUCK YOU!" I yelled.

She looked up at me, her eyes wide, "Who the fuck do you think you are!?"

"I'm Valerie. Watch your back for me." I slapped her, and then there was a red hand mark on her face.

Alison saw me.

She pulled me back.

"Valerie. I don't need you getting in more trouble. I know you've stopped with the fights. You've quit. You've done something I haven't." She whispered.

And with that I walked to second period.