Wow I make really sad stories. Sorry if this upsets anyone.
I am now fifteen years old, and I hate the life I still live. I stared into the bathroom mirror, pulling at my hair trying to cut it with scissors.
I had realized I didn't want to be myself anymore. My face, my hair, my small body. All of it reminded me of who I am, and how I'm stuck here.
I cut my hair vigorously, not caring if it was bad. I hesitantly put the scissors down, looking to see if I had missed any spots. I couldn't change my face or my body, but my hair was different. I know I'll get yelled at, maybe hit, but it didn't matter. I didn't matter.
I took a good look at myself. My once long black silky hair that my grandmother admires, is now unevenly short. I looked at the sink. It was filled with my hair. I struggled trying to get it all out and into the garbage. I opened the bathroom door slowly, walking down the steps. I was frightened by a shadow in the corner, but it was only our dog, Mutt. That's what my father named him when we first got him. He didn't like him at first, making him sleep in the dog house outside, but Mutt had grown on him. I'm sure my father likes Mutt more than me or my mother. He lets him sleep at the edge of his bed with him, but forces my mother to sleep on the couch in the living room.
I walked up to Mutt and rubbed his head, in response he let out a bark. I quickly put my finger to my mouth signaling him to be quiet. My father came down from his office. I turned around, my heart thumping in fear.
"Effie Ann Blackwell! Look at what you've done to your hair!," my father screamed. He took my arm, dragging me to our glass door that led to the backyard.
"How is this gonna make me look? I'll tell you since you're not smart enough to understand. It makes me look like a terrible parent."
He threw me outside, scraping my arm off the ground.
"Since you look like an ungroomed dog, I'll treat you like one. You get to sleep outside tonight in the dog house."
My mother came into the room from the kitchen. She stared at me, giving me a sad look out of pity. I looked down ashamed. Recently my mother stopped protecting me from my father. She wasn't the same anymore. She wasn't my mother anymore. She was like a broken record. Just repeating the same thing over and over again, never doing anything different. She would always do housewife things, be obedient to my father, never speak unless spoken to. She moves like a zombie. Sometimes I wonder if she's still there.
I crawled backwards a bit. My father grabbed a blanket from the couch and threw it towards me, slamming the door shut right after. He gave me a dirty look before shutting the curtain over the glass door. I crawled towards the doghouse, and scooted inside, putting the blanket over me. I shivered, and held onto the blanket tighter. It was November, and it was cold, but not too cold, considering we lived by the beach. Somehow I managed to fall asleep.
I woke instantly to the sound of the glass door opening.
"Effie, get in here now, school's starting soon.," my father said, trying not to be loud, so he wouldn't disturb our neighbors. My father is all about appearances, and making himself look good even though he's a monster. That's why he never lets me or my mom go out if we have bruises, but if I have to for school, he makes sure I have all of them covered up well. All I do is lie about who I am, and what happens at home. I want to change that.
I'm also trying to make chapters shorter. It's quite easier that way.