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Word Count: 1,044
It is dark All is quiet except for the squeaks and cracks of this 19th century house sinking into the foundation of the ground I open my eyes and it is still dark I reach out my right arm in hopes that my hand will find the button on my petite lamp A soft glow illuminates my room I sit up and strain to hear the soft voices coming from the television down the hall I move my purple and pink flannel blankets off my body and get out of bed The cold hardware floor sends chills up my body so I put on my Barbie slippers As I peek around the corner of my doorway I see my mother crying on the couch using the television as a source of distraction in hopes that I wouldnt hear her Ive seen this scene many times these past 8 years but I knew the scenes to follow would play out differently than they ever had in the past She is waiting for him Him I will not call my dad but I will only call my father although hes barely worthy of that title Since I am now awake I will wait too I sit back in my bed staring at the clock Just as the hour hand reaches 2 I hear a car pull up Hes finally home He drags his feet across the pavement and trudges up the fourteen stairs He opens the door and slams it He has no idea who is asleep in the house nor does he have any consideration Right away I get up again and look out from my room I see him ignore my mother as if shes not even there and goes into their bedroom Three minutes later he comes back out screaming at my mother because she has not washed his laundry Then he lies on the couch to watch TV My mother asks where
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