Broken. C h a p t e r 7 "Whatever. You're not my friend.

Broken. 
C   h   a   p   t   e   r      7

"Whatever. You're not my friend. You're dead to me. Please never give me a hug, ever. They're so unpleasant in general, and it's worse when it's you." I say. She shakes her head, like, she cannot believe her ears that someone actually dislikes Lizzy Smalls. 

----------------

I sniffle and start walking down the sidewalk in the direction of The House. I'm dreading it. I'm dreading coming home late. She's probably awake and defiantly home by now. Ugh. I'm dead.

I'm dead.

I think about this. I am dead, in a way. Just not completely.

I reach the front porch and wince at the light coming through the window. I think... she might have someone over? She never turns on the lights. It hurts her head when she has a hangover.

I swallow away my frusteration and desperation. Control is what I need now.

I step inside The House and hear talking coming from the nearby kitchen. I tense up immediately. Did she take someone home with her like I was wondering?

"I was hoping that she could just leave. I just want her away. She's a pain in the a_s." I hear her say. I lean against the wall, by the doorway but in the shadows so that nobody could see me.

"Please mam, understand that we would love to take her off of your hands, but you need to read the contract and sign it first." I hear a female, oddly formative voice say. What are they talking about? And who is this woman? Defiantly not one of her friends, she was way too formal while talking.

"Fine," I heard my mother grunt. "Is there any, like, rigs in the contract?"

"No mam."

What kind of contract were they talking about? Why do I care? It's probably just something she's buying. I quietly sneak up the stairs stealthily, go to my bedroom, shut the door slowly and collapse on my bed. Who cares? What's the point? Nobody cares about me. Nobody loves me. I should just leave.

Leave. I need to leave.

But I can't leave, can I? I can never leave.

My brain often thinks things over like this. There's a subject. An idea. But I often swat it away before I can think about it. 

What am I doing? I'm hopeless. Come to think of it, hope isn't really real. It's just something that happy people made up so that they can have their little fantasy.

But nothing has real hope. So many people suffer each day. Lots of people a lot worse than me. What's a couple of scars and bruises, a disownment?

But then there's the oblivious happy people with their 'hope'. They don't care about the broken people that have none.


A/N
Okay I started crying during this chapter tbh
I really dont feel like writing a long AN so sorry...
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I've just been feeling really out of it
nobody really cares do they
nobody
sorry
bye
i love you
*kisses you each on your head*
-Lia<3