sarah.

Sarah sighed as she opened the door to her, seemingly always, empty house. It had been a rotten week; being asked out as a joke, failing algebra, losing her notebooks, and being told to dance for a quarter, like some heathen. She looked around the living room to find liquor and wine bottles scattering the tables and floor.


"Typical," the girl muttered as she picked up the discarded bottles, already knowing who they belong to. Laura, her mother, was letting her dead-beat, drunken father stay with them to what seemed to be the eighth millionth time. It always ended the same; he stole something, her mother cried about it for ages, and Sarah has to be put in the middle of it. The young girl never felt bad about the whole situation, her mom knows better but does it anyways. Besides, it's evident to Sarah that Laura doesn't love her, never has and never will. She didn't care much, though. Her father, on the otherhand, loved her too much; always wanting to see Sarah, often giving her presents, and even attempting to murder her mother so he'd gain custody of the young girl. It's funny, she often finds herself thinking, how much he wants to see her when he doesn't even actually make an effort. Sure, he buys her gifts and tells Sarah that he loves her once in a while, but that's all material. Her father never showed up to her actual birth, didn't come to her elementary graduation, never shows up to her parent-teacher conferences, doesn't call or text(sober or otherwise), never cooks for her, never does anything. Sarah doesn't care though because it doesn't seem like anyone else does.