One. Two. Die.

Jenna was acting like a 5 year old with her whining. It was a constant whining. We got into our home and I wasn't fond of it.

First of all, it was so old. The house obviously had been repaired, but nobody bothered to move out some extra old paintings or rugs in the rooms.

The house was 3 stories, which was nice. I mean, I was happy it was big I just didn't know how we were going to settle "who gets what room." In my family, parents get the biggest. But after that, we have to decide Jenna or myself.

Well first of all, Jenna does have a lot of stuff, I'll put it at that. All of it's makeup or magazines. She's into that sort of stuff. But I've not remembered one time when we've moved in when Jenna's not gotten the bigger room.

So I did what any normal person would do when they wanted something:
I begged mom.

"I'm far to busy to decide now. Jenna and you have to decide on your own. You're 14 now, and she's 17. There shouldn't be a reason why you two cannot sort this out like proper adults."

"Well first of all, she acts like she's a lot older than I am. And two--she's not going to listen to me. I can't control her."

Mom sighed. "You don't need the room though. Jenna has a lot of clothes and other things!"

I sighed back. "You don't have to be a little bitch and say that I don't need it. Jenna's ALWAYS, and I mean ALWAYS has gotten the bigger room."