Louie.

No one is awake.

It's just me, at seven a.m.

My dad left for work at six. I woke up at five. I heard him get ready. I listened to his footsteps and knew the reason he was in Louie's room was because he picked up all of his toys. He did that when I was Louie's age, before he left me with her.

My ears strained to hear him walk into each of my step-sisters' room, knowing he was probably giving them kisses on their foreheads. But when his footsteps reached my door way. . . he just paused for a moment . . .and then he was gone.

It always hurts. . .

I got up from my bed when he left and headed down the hallway and down the stairs, dragging my feet. I did my best not to look at the pictures of my father and his new family. I tried not to notice how there was none pictures of me, anywhere. Or how Louie looks just like me.

I feel like a ghost in this house. I was a nuisance to them, all of them. My father just picked me up one day and brought me over and my mother never protested, she just watched me walk out the door.

Next thing I know, I'm here, with them, and my summer is not going the way I thought it would be. At this point in time, I thought I'd be waking up, maybe at a friends house where we spent the night playing video games, or with memories from some party. Hell part of me even thought I'd be waking up with thoughts of someone I was able to call my own.

Instead here I am.

Alone. . . even with two legal guardians and four step-siblings.

My life has been flipped, and I don't know what to make of it. I've gone from being and only child with a struggling parent and a run down home, to being the eldest of five in a neighborhood of suburban, neat families. I feel like someone has filled my body with lead, and I'm stuck in place, unable to move.

My hands move on their own accord and I somehow make myself breakfast and wash away the evidence that I actually had any to begin with. A habit from living with her.

My feet make their way to the living room and I make myself comfortable on the couch. I grab the remote from the rectangular coffee table in front of me and switch the TV on.My father took out the television in my room.

Of course though, in this house I was never able to enjoy some time to myself. Only after twenty glorious minutes, Lizbeth comes bounding down the stairs. She eyes me warily and heads into the kitchen and sneaks herself some chocolate pudding.

The ten-year old waltzes into the living room, ignoring me as she carries her pudding in one hand and teddy bear in the other. Sitting smack-dab in my line of view of the electronic device criss-crossed-apple-sauce style. And as she reaches over to the cable box and begins to click the buttons to change the channel, I look at her with disbelief.

My fingers automatically begin to counter act her actions and try to bring back up the channel I was watching. But Lizbeth doesn't get the hint and continues her action with determination. Our little battle goes on for two minutes.

I scoff, not believing what she's doing.

"Hey I'm trying to watch TV here! Hello!"

She ignores me.

"Lizbeth! You can't just change the channel without even asking!"

Lizbeth just looks back at me and rolls her eyes, "Why don't you just watch TV in your room." I laugh at her. "Because I don't have one in my room! Why don't you! You have one!" I retort.

"That's not my fault," She sneers.

Oh my god, are you fucking serious.

"Listen, you little brat-" I begin but Lorraine cuts me off.

"Will you two just stop fighting already. Mom's still asleep." She growls, coming down the stairs and carrying Louie. Louie sucks his thumb and looks at me, and I shiver feel like he's looking into my soul for a second. Beatrice walks behind them, rubbing her eyes and putting on her glasses.

"Just chill, guys, it's too early for this," Beatrice sighs.

All three of them head into the kitchen, and the sound of cabinets opening and closing begins.

"Let's make pancakes!" Lizbeth exclaims and joins them in the kitchen.

Even though I was finally left to watch whatever show I wanted, my stomach was still churning uneasily. The sounds of their laughter, and knowing how close of a bond they had was unsettling to me.

I've been by myself in a house for eighteen years, I didn't know the joys of having someone related by blood who was younger than me. I didn't know how to talk to them, or interact with them.

I didn't know anything about being the eldest.

And so I turned off the TV and made sure all the couch pillows were nice a neat before I walked back to my room. My throat began to tighten up with an all too familiar feeling and my eyes began to water. I just closed my door, but it did little to muffle the sounds of a happy family.

It did little to ease my pain.