Hannah's Regrets
Thoughts
Chapter 1:
Stupid algebra. It doesn’t make any sense. I liked eighth grade, when English and Math were separate. But no! In ninth grade, they gotta mix them both together!
I was sitting at the small round wooden table in my dining room/ living room/ kitchen. It was Sunday and I’d just gotten back from the 7-Eleven I worked at. I didn’t know where my mom was, but right now I was just trying to get the homework done.
Suddenly, I heard a smack from the other room. The only other room. Then came a muffled scream. A desperate feeling ran through my body. I guess I hadn’t been paying attention. I shot up from the table, and ran to the only other place I had to hide - right next to the door. It flew open into me, the knob into my stomach and wood into my nose. I stifled a gasp as I felt warm fluids run down my face.
Great! I thought. At least he didn't see me. I peeked out from behind the door. His back was to me. He was furiously ripping around through the room, looking for something. Why did he have to be here? Quickly, I slid slyly into our bedroom. In there was my mother, naked, and hiding under her quilt.
"Hide!!!" she hissed, fear building in her eyes.
“Where?” I mouthed. She frantically pointed to the closet. I flung open the door and stuffed myself under her crud, curling into a ball. The closet was small, and just as I squeezed in, I heard the bedroom door fly open. BOOM! BAM! BOOM! BAM!came Glen’s furious footfalls.
"Where's my coat?!" he boomed. The closet door flew open, and light flooded into my hiding spot. I am good at not being noticed. I'd say it's a talent. I looked up at Lucifer himself through the straps of a pair of pumps. He furiously ripped through the clothes hanging from the hangers. He yanked one off of a hanger and slammed the closet door.
"Here!" I heard him say in a muffled snap. After that I heard two more doors slam, and then silence. I slowly sat up and pushed open the closet door. There was my mom, sitting there in the same position. Her normally perfect brown curly hair was slightly ruffled, and she was clutching those covers for her life. On the bed was a small bag. She picked it up cautiously and shoved it into her nightstand drawer. Then She crawled off the bed toward me and sat on the floor next to me.
"Oh, Ben... it’ll get better," she cooed softly, her voice cracking. “We can fix up the place and move out of here. I just need a little bit more money,” she said, smiling weakly. I looked into her hazel eyes. There were tears there for lack of dark circles and wrinkles. She was only twenty-nine.
I knew she was lying. It wouldn't really get better. But I nodded anyway to make her feel better. She clutched my face in her hands and kissed my head. We sat in silence for a very long time embracing.
Glen isn't my mom's brother, friend, husband, or anything else. She's just his favorite prostitute. I guess he’s more her boyfriend than anything, even though he could care less that she sleeps with other men. He still owns her. She’s like his slave. I didn't know my dad, but Mom says he looked like me. Dark, shaggy, unkempt auburn hair, green eyes, freckles, small for my age. I didn’t know exactly what happened to him, or where he was. Mom never talked about him, and I felt weird asking. The few times I had asked she wouldn’t answer right, or just changed the subject. Now, it's just me, her, and whatever guy pays her. She never does her job while I'm in the house, except with Glen. She's scared of him, and he rarely pays her enough or at all. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. I love her so much. The only reason she lets Glen do anything is because she’s scared of him and his threats. That's just the way it is, though. I do my best with what I have, and I guess I have a hell of a lot more than a lot of other people. So I try to get good grades in school because my mom wants me to be successful and have a future. I just like making her happy.
"Why don't you go finish your homework, and I'll get something together for dinner?" Mom said, breaking my trail of thought. I nodded, stood up, and walked into the other room. It’s cramped and small. If you look, I guess it is pretty spacious, but it’s just too messy to look like much. I think at one time the wallpaper was white, but now it was old and peeling and it looked kind of yellow. One of these days we’ll clean the place up.
I stared at my remaining algebra homework. I hate it. It’s so useless. I trudged across the room to the even smaller bathroom. I opened the skinny door and slid inside. It was just big enough for a small sink, a toilet, and a rusty old shower. If you sat on the toilet, your knees bumped into the sink. It’s hard to move, but you don’t do much moving in a bathroom anyway. I looked in the mirror. My face below my nose was covered in blood. I ran the warm water and washed it off, dabbing gently with a cloth on the side. My nose killed. I hope it isn’t broken.I slid back out and took a look around the apartment. It was about six o’clock and the rays of the sun had turned golden, along with the whole apartment. I loved this time of day.
I finally turned and walked out our apartment and down the hall to the elevator. By the time I got outside, the sun was setting. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked left and right on the dead street we lived on. Nothing. Quiet. Just the far-off buzz of the city. No one was out, they were either inside with their forks or in the city getting the last party in before the weekend ends. I walked over to the fence across the street and stuck my fingers into the holes. My ring finger sunk into a wad of gum.
"Yuck," I murmured. LA wasn't the cleanest place on earth. I put my hands back in my pockets and began walking down the sidewalk. Thoughts flowed in and out of my head. I stared at my dirty sneakers as they took turns swinging forward, sticking to the ground, and swinging forward again.
I turned back to the fence and gazed over the horizon. I imagined myself flying off over it, holding my mom by the hand. We would move some place warm, sunny and clean. There wouldn’t be any school and she wouldn’t sleep with any more men, because we wouldn’t need money anymore. We would make all of our food from scratch and just relax all day. That would be the greatest.
Our street was raised above the street below. There was a thirty-foot wall that lined up with the fence, and a small, yet busy street below. Beyond that was a small, not very grassy field, and after that, the center of Los Angeles, with skyscrapers, hobos, prostitutes, casinos, neon lights, smog and all. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the soft remains of light spread right on the sky above it. The smog in the distance made the sunset look more beautiful. I sighed, turned around and headed back to the apartment building. The last thought before my mind drifted of into sweet dream world was this:
School's going to be hell.
Stupid algebra. It doesn’t make any sense. I liked eighth grade, when English and Math were separate. But no! In ninth grade, they gotta mix them both together!
I was sitting at the small round wooden table in my dining room/ living room/ kitchen. It was Sunday and I’d just gotten back from the 7-Eleven I worked at. I didn’t know where my mom was, but right now I was just trying to get the homework done.
Suddenly, I heard a smack from the other room. The only other room. Then came a muffled scream. A desperate feeling ran through my body. I guess I hadn’t been paying attention. I shot up from the table, and ran to the only other place I had to hide - right next to the door. It flew open into me, the knob into my stomach and wood into my nose. I stifled a gasp as I felt warm fluids run down my face.
Great! I thought. At least he didn't see me. I peeked out from behind the door. His back was to me. He was furiously ripping around through the room, looking for something. Why did he have to be here? Quickly, I slid slyly into our bedroom. In there was my mother, naked, and hiding under her quilt.
"Hide!!!" she hissed, fear building in her eyes.
“Where?” I mouthed. She frantically pointed to the closet. I flung open the door and stuffed myself under her crud, curling into a ball. The closet was small, and just as I squeezed in, I heard the bedroom door fly open. BOOM! BAM! BOOM! BAM!came Glen’s furious footfalls.
"Where's my coat?!" he boomed. The closet door flew open, and light flooded into my hiding spot. I am good at not being noticed. I'd say it's a talent. I looked up at Lucifer himself through the straps of a pair of pumps. He furiously ripped through the clothes hanging from the hangers. He yanked one off of a hanger and slammed the closet door.
"Here!" I heard him say in a muffled snap. After that I heard two more doors slam, and then silence. I slowly sat up and pushed open the closet door. There was my mom, sitting there in the same position. Her normally perfect brown curly hair was slightly ruffled, and she was clutching those covers for her life. On the bed was a small bag. She picked it up cautiously and shoved it into her nightstand drawer. Then She crawled off the bed toward me and sat on the floor next to me.
"Oh, Ben... it’ll get better," she cooed softly, her voice cracking. “We can fix up the place and move out of here. I just need a little bit more money,” she said, smiling weakly. I looked into her hazel eyes. There were tears there for lack of dark circles and wrinkles. She was only twenty-nine.
I knew she was lying. It wouldn't really get better. But I nodded anyway to make her feel better. She clutched my face in her hands and kissed my head. We sat in silence for a very long time embracing.
Glen isn't my mom's brother, friend, husband, or anything else. She's just his favorite prostitute. I guess he’s more her boyfriend than anything, even though he could care less that she sleeps with other men. He still owns her. She’s like his slave. I didn't know my dad, but Mom says he looked like me. Dark, shaggy, unkempt auburn hair, green eyes, freckles, small for my age. I didn’t know exactly what happened to him, or where he was. Mom never talked about him, and I felt weird asking. The few times I had asked she wouldn’t answer right, or just changed the subject. Now, it's just me, her, and whatever guy pays her. She never does her job while I'm in the house, except with Glen. She's scared of him, and he rarely pays her enough or at all. Don't get me wrong, I love my mother. I love her so much. The only reason she lets Glen do anything is because she’s scared of him and his threats. That's just the way it is, though. I do my best with what I have, and I guess I have a hell of a lot more than a lot of other people. So I try to get good grades in school because my mom wants me to be successful and have a future. I just like making her happy.
"Why don't you go finish your homework, and I'll get something together for dinner?" Mom said, breaking my trail of thought. I nodded, stood up, and walked into the other room. It’s cramped and small. If you look, I guess it is pretty spacious, but it’s just too messy to look like much. I think at one time the wallpaper was white, but now it was old and peeling and it looked kind of yellow. One of these days we’ll clean the place up.
I stared at my remaining algebra homework. I hate it. It’s so useless. I trudged across the room to the even smaller bathroom. I opened the skinny door and slid inside. It was just big enough for a small sink, a toilet, and a rusty old shower. If you sat on the toilet, your knees bumped into the sink. It’s hard to move, but you don’t do much moving in a bathroom anyway. I looked in the mirror. My face below my nose was covered in blood. I ran the warm water and washed it off, dabbing gently with a cloth on the side. My nose killed. I hope it isn’t broken.I slid back out and took a look around the apartment. It was about six o’clock and the rays of the sun had turned golden, along with the whole apartment. I loved this time of day.
I finally turned and walked out our apartment and down the hall to the elevator. By the time I got outside, the sun was setting. I shoved my hands in my pockets and looked left and right on the dead street we lived on. Nothing. Quiet. Just the far-off buzz of the city. No one was out, they were either inside with their forks or in the city getting the last party in before the weekend ends. I walked over to the fence across the street and stuck my fingers into the holes. My ring finger sunk into a wad of gum.
"Yuck," I murmured. LA wasn't the cleanest place on earth. I put my hands back in my pockets and began walking down the sidewalk. Thoughts flowed in and out of my head. I stared at my dirty sneakers as they took turns swinging forward, sticking to the ground, and swinging forward again.
I turned back to the fence and gazed over the horizon. I imagined myself flying off over it, holding my mom by the hand. We would move some place warm, sunny and clean. There wouldn’t be any school and she wouldn’t sleep with any more men, because we wouldn’t need money anymore. We would make all of our food from scratch and just relax all day. That would be the greatest.
Our street was raised above the street below. There was a thirty-foot wall that lined up with the fence, and a small, yet busy street below. Beyond that was a small, not very grassy field, and after that, the center of Los Angeles, with skyscrapers, hobos, prostitutes, casinos, neon lights, smog and all. The sun dipped below the horizon, leaving the soft remains of light spread right on the sky above it. The smog in the distance made the sunset look more beautiful. I sighed, turned around and headed back to the apartment building. The last thought before my mind drifted of into sweet dream world was this:
School's going to be hell.