"Once again, you're late. Where were you this time?" My mother slurred as I walked into the house.

"I got caught up with some people in the hallway, making me late into getting home." I lied.

"That's the most dumbest excuse I ever heard! Why are you lying?!" She yelled.

"I - I'm n - not. I - I'm t - telling t - the truth. I - I swear." I replied putting my hands up in defense, backing away from my insane mother.

"You're not getting away this time." She said as she grabbed my wrist and pulled me toward her incoming fist. She began punching me repeatedly until it felt like my face was completely numb. She, then, dropped me onto the hardwood floor and grabbed me by the ankles. I was, then, dragged across the floor and sharp and robust nails were digging into my pale - ish tan body. "Please! S - stop, mommy!" I implored as she dropped my ankles and headed toward the kitchen. I heard the fridge door open and the sound of clinking glass bottles. Beer. She then walked back to me, while I was trying to escape from her clutches, and smashed my head against the glass. As I began to fall into unconsciousness, I heard her whisper something. "I'm not your mother."

"Huh?" I groaned as I picked myself up from a hard surface. I blinked a couple of times and felt the ground a little more, only to realize that I was on the living room floor. I steadily started to get use to surroundings and raised myself up from the cold floor. I winced and limped every step I took. It was then I knew I was unconscious because of my good ol' mother. I still need to go to school. I internally groaned at the thought. I hurriedly hopped up the stairs and stumbled into my bathroom. I already knew I was cover in black, blue, and purple bruises, so there was no need to turn on the light to see such a horrid view. I quickly found some dark clothes, dressed warily, hobbled down the stairs and walked, more like hunched, my way to school.