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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1379968-Prisoner
Rated: E · Other · Teen · #1379968
please help me think of a title! its about a teenager with ALOT of problems...
"Jade, did you take your pills this morning?" asked my mother.
"Yes..." I said in an obvious annoyed tone.
"All of them?" she questioned with her eyebrows raised to express her suspision. I nodded in a response. I knew she thought I didn't take my Benzo pill that was supposed to help me control my Explosive Disorder. I actually did take it this morning, along with the one's that supposedly help my Manic Depression and Panic Attacks.
"Well you're not acting like it!" nagged my mom. She always does this and I'm sick of it.
"Shut up!! I DID take it but they don't WORK!" I screamed at her. This was very common nowadays.
"Don't raise your voice at me!" she replied.
"Just SHUT UP AND STOP FREAKING NAGGING ME!!!!" Once again, my temper was flaring. Honestly though, I don't think I actually have Explosive Disorder, I think it's just that I've been cooped up her with my mother for fourteen years.
"If you want a new family so bad, then go find one!!!" she yelled fiercely back at me.
"You know what?! I think YOU'RE the one who need the Benzo's and the lousy psychiatrist, you freakin' nutcase!" With that, her eyes waterred, she stomped out of the room, slammed her bedroom door behind her, and finally left me eat my breakfast in peace. I didn't feel a tad bit of remorse for what I said because I meant every damn word. And those tears? Fake. Believe me, I've learned to cope with her stupid little pissy-fits.
Crunch. Slurp. I finished up my cereal that I managed to eat only because I put about 3/4 cup of sugar on, and drank the rest of my bitter-tasting coffee. No matter how much sugar I put in it, it just wouldn't get sweet. The taste was digustingly putrid when it hit my tongue, but I drank it anyway, so Marie, my mom, would have no more coffee to get her through the day. How thoughtful of me. My grandmother says I antagonize Marie too much, but she's the one that really starts it. And if I DO start it, Marie most likely only brought it upon herself.
Speaking of the devil, I saw her creep out of her room all red-faced. She said nothing to me, only until she reached the recently emptied coffee pot. It was as if it were her most prized possession in the morning when everything seemed like it was going to take longer than normal and be more stressful, at least when it was full of freshly-brewed sour coffee that is. Her dark brown eyes widened in horror. Then, slowly she turned and glared at me. There was an insane gleam in her eyes, almost like she was hell-bent on gutting me with her fingernails. With a wicked grin, I stared back, hoping to piss her off just a slight bit more. Without warning she stomped her way angrily to the front door and outside, leaving for work. I would have to leave as well in a couple of minutes so I could walk to my bus stop in time. It was only up the hill. On second thought, since Marie had already left, I think I'll stay home alone today.
"Ha! No school for me, bitches!" I commented aloud.

To be continued...
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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1379968-Prisoner