It was one of those days that I just knew would be horrible. Not that anyone had suggested to me something bad would happen; it was just something about the cloudy, dreery weather that sent chills running up and down my spine telling me nothing good was going to come from this day. I was only eight when it all happened, but I can still remember every little detail as if it had just happened yesterday. While I was growing up, I knew the way we lived was a lot differet than most people. When I got to stay over at a friend's house, I finally got the chance to relax and be happy. In my house people were constantly fighting and shouting at each other.
That Saturday started off like any normal morning. I woke up, wearing my favorite pink bathrobe that my grandpa bought me for my birthday just a few days earilier. I sprinted to the pantry and snatched the Reese's Puffs like they would not have been there if I had waited another second to get them. I was starving, it felt like my whole house was enveloped with the smell of peanut butter and chocolate. At least that was all I could pay attention to. After pouring my cereal into a bowl, I followed my usual morning ritual of sitting on the big, brown couch in the living room and watching all the shows on TLC having anything to do with babies. A couple of hours later my sister woke up, looking like she had just come from a wind tunnel. Her hair was all over the place and sadly, her makeup was not in any better condition. As usual, we fought.
“Veronica, you always wake up way too early and watch TV at the same volume as an old, nearly deaf grandpa would! And you always wake me up!” my sister yelled.
“That's not even possible, Naomi! You sleep downstiars. There's no way you could have heard anything from up here.”
“Yeah...you did. How would I not know what woke me up? I'm going to tell mom when she wakes up that you were blaring the TV in the living room so loudly that it woke me up all the way downstairs!”
“Do whatever you want, Naomi; I already hate you!”
After that, I threw my half eaten bowl of cereal into the the sink and stomped down the hallway back into my room. When my mom and dad woke up, they were already yelling at each other about something. Fighting was a normal thing in our house, and I did not really mind it because people had always told me that 'fighting is a good thing, it means two people still care about eachother. It's when the fighting stops that you need to worry.' My sister kept trying to get my mother's attention in the middle of her fight with my dad.
“Mom! I need to talk to you, it's about what Veronica was doing this morning.”
As soon as I heard that, I came running out of room to try and talk over my sister so that I could get my mom's...