Glitter in the Air

I sat up, groaning, as I stretched, hearing my joints pop and the tenderness across my skin. I didn’t bother glancing down, I knew there would be smatterings of dark, purple blotches across my scarred flesh. I could barely remember why I had gotten it last night. All I could remember was being screamed at for turning my music up so loud. When the only reason it was so loud was so that I wouldn’t have to listen to my mother and whoever she had in her room go at it.

I’ll be honest, waking up like this isn’t anything new. I can’t remember waking up without being sore, and as sick as it may sound, I relish in it. It means I’m still alive, that I’m still fighting, and that I’m another day closer to escaping this hellhole. I’ve been asked why, why I’m still here, doing the same thing everyday. Kind of like it was a scheduled thing. Get up, get dressed, cover the bruises, go to school, go home, clean, cook, go to sleep. Well, with the occasional confrontation, which would explain the bruises. And you’d think that maybe, with going to a public school and all wouldn’t have someone noticed the bruises the unexplainable injuries? Not likely. Where I’m from, you keep your head down and you sure as hell don’t ask questions. Turn your head the other way, as I’m told. Or friends? What about my friends, do they notice? The closest thing to having a friend, would be with the shady kids who hang out in the alleyway of the apartment complex, and that’s only when they ask me if I “want a hit?” I see the effects of drugs everyday, in the eyes of the woman I thought I could count on for anything, especially after my Dad. But that’s where wishful thinking gets you eh?

I climbed out of bed and walked over to my dresser, pulling out an old pair of jeans and a sweatshirt. Today was a different day though, everything was quiet, it was never quiet in this house. No matter what time of the day. Mom would usually be awake, to kick some guy out and get her fix. But there was no sound, not a single movement outside my door. I opened it cautiously, not sure what I was going to find. I walked down the short hallway, and into the living/dining room/kitchen, not a thing out of place, except for mom, she was on the couch, I could see her arm thrown over the side, she was probably already stoned.

“Mom,” I called her, wanting to get her in her room before I left for school. Even if she may get pissed at me for making her move.

“Mom.” I tried again, sighing I walked around the couch, ready to help her up, only to jump back and bite down a scream. Staring up at me were the eyes I once would have told you would rival a sunrise. But looking down at them now they were glassy and lifeless. Tears welled up in my jade colored eyes, before striding to her room, searching for her crappy cell phone. Once I’d found it I dialed 911.

“911 what is your emergency?” the operator answered, “Uhm. Hi. I think my Moms dead.” I said, my voice cracking at the end before I broke down into a blubbering hysterical mess.

“Hello? Hello? Ma’am?” The operators voice came floating back up to me, “What is your address?” I had to think about it for a moment. “1627 Main, apartment 4B” I told her more tears sliding down my face.

“The paramedics are on their way, do you need me to stay on the line with you?” she asked, “No.” was all I told her before I snapped shut the piece of crap.

What was I going to do? I don’t have any family, my Grandparents are dead, and my mom was an only child, just like me. I would have to go to a shitty foster home, which probably won’t be any better or worse than where I was stuck right now.

A banging at the door awoke me from my thoughts, standing up shakily I walked over to the door and opened it, only to reveal four men with a stretcher. I stepped aside and they rushed inside, over to Mom. She would have thrown a fit back when I was younger if people came into one of our houses and it was in such disarray as it was now, but since she no longer cared about a damn thing than why should I? I watched the men check her pulse, and start up CPR. I watched them try that for about five minutes until they got up off the floor one by one, the last shutting her eyes for her then looking up sadly at me. I let no emotion show on my face as they shuffled out and the police came filing in, they always came, it was always something drug related around these parts.

“Hope?” Jake, my social worker came up behind me, placing a hand on my shoulder, of course they called my stupid social worker.

“Come on Hope.” he told me, gently pulling on my arm, I followed him slowly, back towards his car.

“I guess this means no school for me today huh?” I asked him, he looked back at me with a sad look in his eyes.

“No Hope, no school for you today.”