She was gone. There was nothing they could do.

"You ungrateful bitch."

She didn't yell it, or hiss it, or even say it angrily.

She only said that I was an ungrateful bitch.

What did I do this time? I told her.

The house is clean. Sparkling! Dinner is done. It's top-quality, considering what we have. (next to nothing.) Le-cordon-bleu worthy.

So what are you mad about now?

"You should get a job, I'm sick of being the only one around here who provides for me and your sorry ass."

Yeah, while you're out being a crack whore.

"You better not call me that.ever again. I stil support a family of two. That includes you."

As if this counts as a family. Mom and Dad died, remember?

"You know what? Forget getting a job, just get out. I'm better off without you anyways."

Yeah, that way you can bring guys home instead of going to theirs every night. I turned and left.

I was glad she had finally told me to leave, I was sick of it there. She'd need me the next day though, she always did. To help her get in the door after... let's just say long nights, go grocery shopping, but mostly drug runs. But I wasn't going to come back.

Where would I go though? That was a good question. I couldn't go to a friend's house, because I didn't have any. Friends, I mean. With my crazy sister, I never had time for anything but taking care of her, much less maintaining friendships.

I couldn't go to a neighbor's house to call the police, I'd be put in foster care or (even worse!) taken back to her house.

I had no family within a 100-mile radius, except for my sister. My mom and dad were dead.

I had one other choice, go wait outside school for the day to start.

I heard a crash in the alley. Someone was throwing things. I went around and found out that Denise, my sister, was throwing things in bags out the window into the dumpster. At least she had taken the time to put it in bags, I mumbled.

Eventually, once she was done throwing things, I pulled what little I owned out of that dumpster.
there were two bags, and a couple boxes. Boy oh boy. I had to go through my stuff to see what I would keep, since I could only carry so much.

I got everything I needed (clothes and memories) and then picked up all my stuff that ended up fitting into one bag, set it aside, and threw everything else back in the dumpster.

Then I cried.

For about a minute, but I still cried. I left for school, six hours early.

Four miles later, I arrived. I dropped the bag off my shoulder, sore from carrying it four miles, and laid down on it and fell asleep.