Home

Chapter 2

As I wait in anticipation and fear I glance around my room, the muddy creamy coloured paint on my walls are peeling and slowly flaking off. Next to the Walls stand the only thing intact, the door. It's a thick, insulated oak door that doesn't even shake when my dad's home. Dad can't get in either. It needs an old-fashioned brass key that weighs about a kilogram. I always lock my door, even when I'm out, I don't want him to destroy it again. The shutters rattle and vibrate more, pulling a cold draught though my bedroom. I swerve, trying to avoid it and bump into my ready packed bag. It's a pull over the shoulder satchel and has everything I need to runaway with. My eyes catch sight of my mirror. It's broken and you can't really see anything, but what shocks me more, is the person in the mirror. They have dishevelled black hair in all directions and their eyes are bruised, sunken and worn. The person looks extremely ill and pale like Tipp-Ex. My eyes scroll down her body, it's thin and I can see her bones, especially her ribs. Her wrists are barely worth mentioning, they're so small. On her wrist is a bendy florissant yellow band. Oh...

It's me.