Floating

I brushed my teeth and washed my face, ignoring the fact that my mum was shouting from downstairs- telling me that I needed to be quicker. "I have a meeting in half an hour! So hurry your ass up now missy!"

I threw on a top and some skinny jeans and rushed downstairs, brushing my hair. "Sorry." I said, grabbing my bag. Mum unlocked the door and walked off to the car, followed by me and my two sisters- I was born third.

~~~

Mum blamed me for being late to her meeting. I've always been her least favourite. Mainly because I hated spending time with them, I preferred sitting up in my room, listening to music and drawing.

My room was cluttered with all of my pieces of artwork. From my first piece to the one I spent most of my day yesterday doing. School was never easy, because instead of doing my homework I would just draw, colour and paint. I hated all classes except art- that's where I got A's. But my mum disapproved of only focusing on one. I was a disappointment to her, that's why I stayed in the attic alone.

Roxy- the eldest- was mum's favourite smart and at college. So it was just Lily, me, Kez and mum who lived in this house. Without dad. He left two years ago because he'd found another woman who didn't treat him like shit on a sidewalk. I missed him, I shared his passion of art. He had always said, "Eli, art is like a picture book- you get the words from what you see."

I kept all of our photos with him in my ballerina music box. Well, the ones mum didn't burn.

He was always there for me. Through the time I felt like dying and to the time I recovered from the scars. It's been five years and I can gladly say I haven't even thought about cutting. He was also there for my first art competition, cheering for me in the crowd. I won and took home the rainbow trophy that I looked at for inspiration. Mum said it was a waste of time and that I wouldn't get anywhere with wanting to be an artist, that made me want to be one more.

"Eli!" Mum yelled from downstairs.

She looked pissed off. In her hand was my phone. "What?" I asked. She shoved the screen in my face, showing messages.

"Why the fuck have you been messaging your dad?" Mum questioned. I started to sweat, why did I leave my phone down here? I shrugged.

"Because he's my dad." I answered, trying to hide the fact I was trembling with fear inside.

Mum smashed my phone on the ground and started to scream at me as I ran to my room.

Underneath my bed was something I hid all these years, I hoped it would never come to this but I got out the sharp glass and slit my arm open. Washing out the blood and dabbing it with a towel. Then I put on a plaster.

I didn't want to.

But it helped.