The Diary of Jane

"Dear diary,
fuck life. I don't think I can take it no longer..."
I bit on my pen, tears welling up in my eyes. I'd been thinking the thought for years, but now it was on the paper never to be erased. I kept on writing. I confessed to the blank pages, letters sloppely scrabbled down on them, some words hard to read because of the tears that they blurred together with.
But I didn't care. I didn't write for anyone to read. I just wrote to get some of it of my chest, I don't know.
I heard a knock on my door.
"Janie?"
I closed the notebook shut and hid it under my pillow.
"Yeah?" I called back.
My sister Fransesca opened the door slightly. I quickly wiped away the tears before looking up at her.
"What is it, hun?" I asked as she sat down on the bed next to me.
She was so sweet. Her blonde hair was in a page haircut and she wore her pj with little hearts on it. She'd got it from me as a birthday present.
"Dad and Katie's fighting", Fransesca mumbled.
"I know, sweetie, I know", I mumbled back and wrapped one arm around her shoulder protectivly.
My father wasn't the best dad on the planet. He wasn't a good boyfriend either. Since mom committed suicide a few years ago, before Fransesca even was born, dad started sleeping around a lot. Fransesca was just the result of an unprotected one-night-stand. She spent one week a time at both her parents. I knew that she didn't want to live with dad. She only stayed here because of me. I think I was a better mom than her real mom would ever be. I mean, she was such a whore, parten my language. She was only 20 and I couldn't understand how she could sleep with someone more that twice her age.
Maybe she was a real whore, that dad had payed her? It wasn't unbelieveble.
"I don't want to go to mom's tomorrow, Janie", Fransesca whined.
"You'll have to", I mumbled.
"Can't you go with me?" She asked, hope glittering in her eyes.
"You know I can't, Fran", I said, hating myself for being the one switching off the light in her young, blue eyes.
I mean she was only 5. She'd been through a lot.
And what about me? I was 15 years old and had to take care of myself and my sister on my own. Some weekends I had to work for dad to pay the rent. Why did I even call him dad? He wasn't a father-figure at all. Just a complete idiot who'd feel me up sometimes. He'd grabbed my ass but I barely noticed it anymore.
He was a jerk. I was his daughter for fucks sake. Did he even know that?
Yeah, he knew... He wasn't that fucked up.
I sighed, pulling Fransesca closer. She was the reason that I didn't escape the world in the same way that my mother had. I wasn't enough for my mom to keep on living. But Fransesca was enough reason for me. I'd never let her go.
I'd never let her go.