One Shot

I've always wanted to make a one shot. So here it is. It's sorta a cliffhanger. Tell me what you think.

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It's that smell again...

The smell of whiskey floating in the air. It's completely silent. All except the clattering off the whiskey bottle toppling over to the carpet. The house reeked over alcohol, And the floor was cover with filth. I slowly rose from my stained covered sheets. I slide my long, abnormally skinny legs out from under the sheets. My brunette hair, mangled down my back. My sparkling blue eyes far to big for my face. My lips a blood red color. I glance down at my flawless pale skin, other then the few bruises I have on my arms from my father.

That was normal though. He always likes to punch my arm. He was abusive, ever since... That day.... The day my mom died.

"It's all your fault! You made her die! If you hadn't been born she would have still been here!" It replayed in my head over and over, like a broken record. Those words... Glued in my head. It was my fault... If I hadn't been born, she still would have been here... She gave up her life, so I could live mine.

I stood up, staring at myself in the broken mirror.

"Get up now Allison! Make me something to eat, you worthless child." My father yelled from the bottom of the stairwell.

"Coming dad..." I turn my rusted door knob, slightly pushing on the door which was severely warped.

I walked slowly down the the rotten stairs, turning the corner now face to face with my father. His face was wrinkled and I could smell the whiskey on his breath even though I was still a few feet away from him. I didn't dare make eye contact with him though. I already learned that mistake far to many times.

"make yourself useful and make me some food." He in a low husky voice.

"Yes, sir." I said quietly, as I glanced up a bit, and saw him stumbling into his dungeon of a bedroom.

I rummage through the rotten cabinets, all of them of course empty. We haven't went food shopping in days. My dad worked, he worked as a janitor in a small office building. He didn't waste his money on food, well at least not food that I would eat. Everyday after coming home from work, he drank his self half to death. Then passed out cold on the couch.

I wondered over to the fridge. Pulling on the sticky handle, to the fridge door. I almost vomited when a gush of all the moldy, old food filled the air. I pull out the milk, and popped open the cap and pours it in the sink. Last time I check milk isn't suppose to come out is clomps. I couldn't handle the smell, I ran into the nearest bathroom. The door removed from the hinges, from a previous "accident".

It just came up, everything. I probably had no food in my stomach now. I finally regained my strength and pulled myself off the mold cover tile floor. Stumbling out of the bathroom.

"Nikki where's my food!?" My dad screamed through his closed door.

It startled me, my hands now shaking. "I'm..um...trying to find something to make dad."

"Hurry up I'm starving!" He yelled out, and then following with a loud smashing of the a bottle, probably the whiskey bottle smashing against the wall.

My body was tensed up, I finally found something to cook. I don't know how old it was, but it was the only thing that smelled reasonable edible. It wasn't the safest thing to eat, since someone had just thrown the meat in there without putting it in a bag and sealing it closed. I think it was chicken. I didn't dare taste it. For two reasons, first because its my dads food not mine, and second because I wasn't sure if it was even good to eat. I turned on the stove placing a badly burned pan over the fire, and let it heat up a little. After a few minutes I put what I believe was chicken on it. Hearing the sizzle of the chicken in the pan made my stomach grumble. I haven't eaten in two days, thank god it was Monday.

The only time I got to eat a little something, is if I got to go to church and of course school. Which my dad rarely let me go to church, and school was mandatory. He thinks they poison kids minds into thinking that god will accept any of us. The church people are kind, they know what he's been doing. They been trying to help me, by giving me some food. But my dad always eats it. He said that I shouldn't be greedy, I will be awarded food when I earn it. I probably would have died by now if it wasn't for the church.

After I finished cooking, I put it on a cracked plate that my dad had glued back together after throwing it at me, and it breaking in half. I go to the sink, and was about to rinse down the clomps milk. But of course.. The water was off.

I knocked twice on my dad's bedroom door.

"Come on!" He said a bit slurred like he was talking into a pillow. But I knew he wasn't, that's how he always talked when he was drunk. I opened the door, and slipped into his pit black room. I flip on the light switch and the lights didn't come on.

"Um.. Dad did you pay the electrical bill, or the water bill."

"Of course I did!" He sat up, turning on his lamp, which ran on AA batters. "See.." He stood up, stumbling into the wall. "Where's my damn food..."

"Um.. Right here" I hand him the plate of the unknown meat.

"You didn't poison this, did you?" He snatched the plate from me, and sniffed it before shove it all down his throat.

"I guess you aren't completely useless." He said, splitting out bites of meat.

I close my eyes, a bit hurt from his rude remark. I turn around, and head out the door. "Where do you think your going?" My dad footsteps came closer towards me. I hear a loud shattering sound, and I turned around and the plate was on the floor smashed into bits and pieces.

I jumped a bit at the sound. "Clean that up. Now!" My dad pushed me aside and walked out of the room. "And while your at it, clean up the glass over there too."

I don't say anything, I walk over to the broken glass. And of course like I said it was the whiskey bottle that was broken. I pick up the pieces. Carefully not to cut myself with the sharp edges. I slowly make my way out of the bedroom, holding all the glass that I can fit in the palm of my hand.

My dad banged the tv, on its side. "Turn on!" He screamed at the tv.

I walked past him and to the kitchen. I dumped the glass into the trash can.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?" My dad didn't looked at me, he just held a beer in his hand.

"Yes, I was just about to-"

"Do you think I care what you were about to do? Get ready now. School is a far walk for you."

I ran upstairs, not daring to say another word to him. I pulled my closet door open, and peered into it. I had a few outfits. I grabbed my only hoodie and then one of the two jeans that I own. Slipping the baggy jeans up my stick skinny legs, and pulling my hoodie over my rats nest of a head.

I grabbed my ripped book bag, and put my notebooks into it, zipping it shut.

I pulled my dirt stained converses on, and walked down the stairs, holding my backpack. "Bye dad." I said quietly as I walked out the broken front door.

I walked to school. It was a long walk, but I didn't dare complain to my dad, and I wasn't about to let him drive me to school everyday. Walking to school was when I could think. I mean actually think. Without being screamed at by my dad. I lived with my grandparents. After my mom gave birth to me, she passed away. My dad couldn't or should I say wouldn't hold me. He wanted to put me up for adoption. So my grandparent told care of me until I was twelve. Then my dad came back in my life after my grandparents died. He never wanted me. He wanted me to suffer just like he had suffered with the loss of his wife. Now I'm seventeen, a senior in high school. I don't have many friends. Everyone just feels sorry for me.

I don't have a phone. I have a small sliver watch that use to belong to my mom. I glance down at it. 7:13 am.

Oh great.. I'm running late. I decided that I should probably start running. So that's what I did, I ran down the sidewalk, the cars passing me as I felt their stares. School was close, a mile away, I quickly took the short cut through the woods. I can't be late.. I can't be late.. I repeated in my head. I look at my watch again.
8:00 am. I have twenty more minutes, but I was still was far away from the school.

I've alway been a clumsy person, so there was no surprise when I tripped over a log, and face planted into the soft green moss.

"Ugh.." I groan, as I pull myself off the ground. I wobbled to the school, limping a little.

It was 8:15 am now, and I knew I wouldn't make it. I just had to face him when I get home. This isn't gonna be a good day. I could just see it now.

I limped out of the woods, my leg was killing me. I saw the school in front of me, I stumbled towards the front door. Kids were staring at me, wondering what was wrong with me.

"Allison, are you okay.." I turned to see a puny, blonde haired woman, Mrs. Zaztten looking at me with curiosity eyes.

"I...um... Yea. I fell..." I looked at her.

Her eyes gazed at me intensely, I looked away after a while.

"Come." She said as she walked into the school.

I followed her into the school building. She walked into the nurses office. This was a bad idea, I could just tell.

 

 I did it again!

 

It's that smell again...

The smell of whiskey floating in the air. It's completely silent. All except the clattering off the whiskey bottle toppling over to the carpet. The house reeked over alcohol, And the floor was cover with filth. I slowly rose from my stained covered sheets. I slide my long, abnormally skinny legs out from under the sheets. My brunette hair, mangled down my back. My sparkling blue eyes far to big for my face. My lips a blood red color. I glance down at my flawless pale skin, other then the few bruises I have on my arms from my father.

That was normal though. He always likes to punch my arm. He was abusive, ever since... That day.... The day my mom died.

"It's all your fault! You made her die! If you hadn't been born she would have still been here!" It replayed in my head over and over, like a broken record. Those words... Glued in my head. It was my fault... If I hadn't been born, she still would have been here... She gave up her life, so I could live mine.

I stood up, staring at myself in the broken mirror.

"Get up now Allison! Make me something to eat, you worthless child." My father yelled from the bottom of the stairwell.

"Coming dad..." I turn my rusted door knob, slightly pushing on the door which was severely warped.

I walked slowly down the the rotten stairs, turning the corner now face to face with my father. His face was wrinkled and I could smell the whiskey on his breath even though I was still a few feet away from him. I didn't dare make eye contact with him though. I already learned that mistake far to many times.

"make yourself useful and make me some food." He in a low husky voice.

"Yes, sir." I said quietly, as I glanced up a bit, and saw him stumbling into his dungeon of a bedroom.

I rummage through the rotten cabinets, all of them of course empty. We haven't went food shopping in days. My dad worked, he worked as a janitor in a small office building. He didn't waste his money on food, well at least not food that I would eat. Everyday after coming home from work, he drank his self half to death. Then passed out cold on the couch.

I wondered over to the fridge. Pulling on the sticky handle, to the fridge door. I almost vomited when a gush of all the moldy, old food filled the air. I pull out the milk, and popped open the cap and pours it in the sink. Last time I check milk isn't suppose to come out is clomps. I couldn't handle the smell, I ran into the nearest bathroom. The door removed from the hinges, from a previous "accident".

It just came up, everything. I probably had no food in my stomach now. I finally regained my strength and pulled myself off the mold cover tile floor. Stumbling out of the bathroom.

"Allison where's my food!?" My dad screamed through his closed door.

It startled me, my hands now shaking. "I'm..um...trying to find something to make dad."

"Hurry up I'm starving!" He yelled out, and then following with a loud smashing of the a bottle, probably the whiskey bottle smashing against the wall.

My body was tensed up, I finally found something to cook. I don't know how old it was, but it was the only thing that smelled reasonable edible. It wasn't the safest thing to eat, since someone had just thrown the meat in there without putting it in a bag and sealing it closed. I think it was chicken. I didn't dare taste it. For two reasons, first because its my dads food not mine, and second because I wasn't sure if it was even good to eat. I turned on the stove placing a badly burned pan over the fire, and let it heat up a little. After a few minutes I put what I believe was chicken on it. Hearing the sizzle of the chicken in the pan made my stomach grumble. I haven't eaten in two days, thank god it was Monday.

The only time I got to eat a little something, is if I got to go to church and of course school. Which my dad rarely let me go to church, and school was mandatory. He thinks they poison kids minds into thinking that god will accept any of us. The church people are kind, they know what he's been doing. They been trying to help me, by giving me some food. But my dad always eats it. He said that I shouldn't be greedy, I will be awarded food when I earn it. I probably would have died by now if it wasn't for the church.

After I finished cooking, I put it on a cracked plate that my dad had glued back together after throwing it at me, and it breaking in half. I go to the sink, and was about to rinse down the clomps milk. But of course.. The water was off.

I knocked twice on my dad's bedroom door.

"Come on!" He said a bit slurred like he was talking into a pillow. But I knew he wasn't, that's how he always talked when he was drunk. I opened the door, and slipped into his pit black room. I flip on the light switch and the lights didn't come on.

"Um.. Dad did you pay the electrical bill, or the water bill."

"Of course I did!" He sat up, turning on his lamp, which ran on AA batters. "See.." He stood up, stumbling into the wall. "Where's my damn food..."

"Um.. Right here" I hand him the plate of the unknown meat.

"You didn't poison this, did you?" He snatched the plate from me, and sniffed it before shove it all down his throat.

"I guess you aren't completely useless." He said, splitting out bites of meat.

I close my eyes, a bit hurt from his rude remark. I turn around, and head out the door. "Where do you think your going?" My dad footsteps came closer towards me. I hear a loud shattering sound, and I turned around and the plate was on the floor smashed into bits and pieces.

I jumped a bit at the sound. "Clean that up. Now!" My dad pushed me aside and walked out of the room. "And while your at it, clean up the glass over there too."

I don't say anything, I walk over to the broken glass. And of course like I said it was the whiskey bottle that was broken. I pick up the pieces. Carefully not to cut myself with the sharp edges. I slowly make my way out of the bedroom, holding all the glass that I can fit in the palm of my hand.

My dad banged the tv, on its side. "Turn on!" He screamed at the tv.

I walked past him and to the kitchen. I dumped the glass into the trash can.

"Shouldn't you be getting ready for school?" My dad didn't looked at me, he just held a beer in his hand.

"Yes, I was just about to-"

"Do you think I care what you were about to do? Get ready now. School is a far walk for you."

I ran upstairs, not daring to say another word to him. I pulled my closet door open, and peered into it. I had a few outfits. I grabbed my only hoodie and then one of the two jeans that I own. Slipping the baggy jeans up my stick skinny legs, and pulling my hoodie over my rats nest of a head.

I grabbed my ripped book bag, and put my notebooks into it, zipping it shut.

I pulled my dirt stained converses on, and walked down the stairs, holding my backpack. "Bye dad." I said quietly as I walked out the broken front door.

I walked to school. It was a long walk, but I didn't dare complain to my dad, and I wasn't about to let him drive me to school everyday. Walking to school was when I could think. I mean actually think. Without being screamed at by my dad. I lived with my grandparents. After my mom gave birth to me, she passed away. My dad couldn't or should I say wouldn't hold me. He wanted to put me up for adoption. So my grandparent told care of me until I was twelve. Then my dad came back in my life after my grandparents died. He never wanted me. He wanted me to suffer just like he had suffered with the loss of his wife. Now I'm seventeen, a senior in high school. I don't have many friends. Everyone just feels sorry for me.

I don't have a phone. I have a small sliver watch that use to belong to my mom. I glance down at it. 7:13 am.

Oh great.. I'm running late. I decided that I should probably start running. So that's what I did, I ran down the sidewalk, the cars passing me as I felt their stares. School was close, a mile away, I quickly took the short cut through the woods. I can't be late.. I can't be late.. I repeated in my head. I look at my watch again.
8:00 am. I have twenty more minutes, but I was still was far away from the school.

I've alway been a clumsy person, so there was no surprise when I tripped over a log, and face planted into the soft green moss.

"Ugh.." I groan, as I pull myself off the ground. I wobbled to the school, limping a little.

It was 8:15 am now, and I knew I wouldn't make it. I just had to face him when I get home. This isn't gonna be a good day. I could just see it now.

I limped out of the woods, my leg was killing me. I saw the school in front of me, I stumbled towards the front door. Kids were staring at me, wondering what was wrong with me.

"Allison, are you okay.." I turned to see a puny, blonde haired woman, Mrs. Zaztten looking at me with curiosity eyes.

"I...um... Yea. I fell..." I looked at her.

Her eyes gazed at me intensely, I looked away after a while.

"Come." She said as she walked into the school.

I followed her into the school building. She walked into the nurses office. This was a bad idea, I could just tell.

I sat on the small cot in the corner of the room; the only thing on it was a small hospital pillow, and a thin pale white sheet.

The scrawny nurse, Mrs.Dasonville sat in a leather chair, as she eyed me.

"What do we have here?"

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 that's better.