A Surprise.

It is a bright Monday morning. You're in the bathroom, preparing for school. Just thinking about that 'S' word leaves a bad taste in your mouth. But, you still have to go regardless, it's the one chance you've got to help yourself out of this shithole.

As your hair proves to be uncombable, you drop the comb and look up to catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. The sight is a very familiar one. An eighteen year old kid with frizzy brown hair, a pale face, moss-green eyes with deep dark circles around them, and skinny growing body in the process of becoming awkwardly gangly. Yep, that's you. You throw a kiss at the reflection before exiting the bathroom.

Slinging on your bag, you go to unplug your phone from the wall and head downstairs. Your house is moderately big. It was once a joy to behold when your grandfather was the owner. The old man certainly wouldn't smile, looking at what has become of it. It is in such a terrible state of disrepair, that one of these days, you're not sure which one would give in first: the flaky ceilings or the creaky floors. Either way, you rather look at your phone than this sorry sight.

'What the hell?' You think. 'Where did this shit come from?' Without dawdling, your thumb moves to the uninstall option and press down on it. "Bugs," you mutter. This phone's the only you've got and you'd be damned if anything happens to it.

A short trip down the stairway leads you into the living room. It's sparsely populated with the basic amenities and of course, beer bottles, trailing all the way to your Dad, passed out on a ratty couch as he is. He's a six footer, with short hair, an ugly rotund belly and wearing a dirty wife-beater. Another bottle is clutched weakly to his chest as he snores away. 'Pathetic,' You shake your head at the sight before retreating to the kitchen.

Raiding the fridge, you manage to find a box of half eaten cereal, which you pour into a bowl and begin to eat – dry. Milk is a luxury you can't afford. As you eat your humdrum of a breakfast, your thoughts idly wander. You and your Dad are the only ones in the house. Your Mom should probably be back today and your sister too, if she gets kicked out of whatever party she's haunting.

SNORE!

Your father's snore rings through the silence, further irritating you. If only the fat dumbass puts more effort into straightening things out, but no, he'd rather **** his family and drink his life away.

SNORE!!

All because he lost his precious job, his wife and children has to suffer for it. He doesn't even care that everything he once cherish is falling apart.

SNORE!!!

With an eye twitch, you grab your bag and walk out the door. It's the only way you can prevent yourself from giving in to the rising temptation to **** your Dad. The two of you have never really gotten along. You won't miss him.

=MM=

Outside, while waiting for the bus, you see your next-door neighbor, Mrs. Lindsay, watering her garden, or pretending to. She's the neighborhood busybody. The one responsible for spreading your family affairs to the rest of the community.

Both your eyes meet, she freeze and hurriedly look away. Honestly, you're more annoyed than angry at the woman. She's free to do whatever she likes after all. It's just a pity that a pretty one like her has such a nasty habit. Well, one can't have it all.

Soon, the bus arrive in the front of your house and you enter.

As you make your way to the backseat, you hear the nasty whispers and hushed jeers that follows your every step.

"Look at him, he looks like a scarecrow."

"A total weirdo."

"His skin's like tots freaky. I wouldn't date him if they pay me."

The harsh words may affect some people, but you've got used to it so well that ignoring them feels more like a routine than an effort. You seclude yourself by the window, about to drift off into your own heaven when your phone buzz in your pocket. When you bring it out to check, it is the same App you deleted a while ago, freshly installed.

"Bugs," is all you mutter in annoyance.