Pulling myself out of bed, I turned the alarm off. I hated Mondays with a passion, but I forced myself up and walked over to my dresser to get dressed. After all, this was my last year of high school and soon enough, I would be able to escape life here and, hopefully, bring my mother with me. I had already applied to a few schools, and, with my current art skills, I was sure to win a few scholarships along the way. Settling for a plain orange t-shirt, and a set of jeans with a black pull over hoodie, I threw on some socks and made my way downstairs to greet my mother, who was hard at work, cleaning the mess my sleeping stepfather had made the night before. I fell into step with her as she worked on cleaning the glass off the floor, while I filled a bucket with water for the mop. We didn’t say anything to each other, besides our morning greetings of, 'how did you sleep?' This was our normal. Something we both adjusted to, too quickly.We lived in an old run-down apartment. Plaster was
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