or when drowning feels like the better option.
my fingers were becoming prunier by the second as i sat in the bathtub, my ears below the surface of the water. i had only chosen to bathe because of the calm i hoped i would find in the warm water.
i stared at the ceiling, thought about the moments which had taken place before i had to take my leave from the dining room so as to keep some of my self respect (which drained out despite my vain efforts).
my stepsister reached across the table, unable to reach the bag of chips. "gimme the chips!" she shouted, too lazy to get off her ass.
"you can just stand up," i mumbled under my breath.
"gimmmmmmmeeeeee!" she then adressed one of my biological sisters. "hand me the chips!" never a question, always an asinine demand.
"no, you can stand up and get them," my sister said snidely.
"give them to me!"
"maybe if you asked her nicely, she would help you," i told her.
"NEVER!!!"
i just dropped it, unwilling to pick a fight with the beastly little child.
after a few seconds, my stepfather - who wasn't even sitting at the same table as us - said to me, "maybe you shouldn't ask others to be nice if you aren't."
i bit my tongue.
i refused to look at him.
i finished the last of my dinner hurriedly, then took care of my dishes before locking my bedroom and bathroom doors behind me.
i stared at the ceiling.
i am a monster.
he sees it.
my mom sees it.
every one of those height-lacking brats sees it.
i wouldn't be surprised if the people at school see it.
and now, i very easily see it.
the girl with no heart,
but instead gnarled fangs.
YOU ARE READING
Smart Girl
Non-Fictionthoughts from the smart girl. //the journal of wren// //highest rank #2 in non fiction// //all names of real people interacted with here are altered from their original versions for privacy's sake//
