Reasons To Live by Sara Khalil (most read books TXT) 📕

could think about. I tried calling my sister Mimi, but she didn't ever answer her phone. Mimi lives with our grandma May, she's my half sister and older than me by twenty days (she thinks that gives her the right to play the older sister, haa she wishes).
It was really very frustrating, the long nights in bed staring at ceiling wondering why he wasn't calling. What if something happened? What if he just didn't like me? You see? It was tiring. This was exactly why I didn't do this sort of thing. Boys were just too confusing. They were like a whole different world compared to girls. Actually, scratch that; a whole different world compared to me. I just hope he calls before I go crazy.


I wake up slightly dazed and realized I fell asleep with the lights on, again. I switched them off cursing under my breath at how much the electric bill was going to cost this month because of that. I pay the electric bill. One of my friends in school asked me why I did when I accidentally let it slip one cold January morning. I said,
"Well, for a lot of reasons. Bur mainly because I like to be warm in the middle of winter, where as my parents couldn't care less if we freeze to death or not as long as we're saving money. So I got a job this winter and started paying for the electric and heat."
After that everyone looked at me differently so I just kept to myself the rest of the year, waiting until summer. The long awaited summer is finally here, but I'm doing the same thing I did in the winter. Staying at home with my music on, singing along and writing short stories. But I'm doing this without the excuse of it being too cold outside to interact with other living people, unlike my parents who are like zombies walking around the house when they're not at work. The only emotions they show are disappointment and anger; anger at the world for being so unfair and disappointment at me for not being all they wanted in a daughter. Of course, this equals up to a great relationship with them. What a happy family we are.

So I decide to go to Starbucks to start my day off on a good note . . . I left at about four thirty in the afternoon. It took forever to find an outfit that said, "Hi, I'm just casually going out for some coffee, no biggie. You think these jeans compliment my butt? Oh gosh, you're making me blush! You flatter me too much." Yes, I actually did think that. And no, I am most definitely not over thinking this. Okay, maybe I am just a little. But hey, can you blame me? I don't really do this everyday ya know.
I'd been completely transformed. I actually had on make up, some eye liner and mascara finished off with an eye-shadow the color of golden dandelions when they glisten in the bright and warm sun. My outfit was simple, but flattering. I had on tight black skinny jeans with a black Aero shirt and black balle flats. I shoved three gold bangles on each wrist and left, my hair strangely behaving well, light brown curls flowing to about the middle of my back. I was happy, really happy. And that all changed as soon as I saw my parents sitting at the living room table, looking worn out and angry. I tried to sneak past them without them noticing, but it didn't work.
"Young lady, where do you think you're going?" My dad's voiced whipped out, making me flinch hard. I took a step back.
"I'm just going out for a bit, I'll be back in time to make dinner I promise." I said, trying to smooth things over before they got out of control.
"Oh no you're not! You're grounded young lady." My mom said, just as angry. I flinched once again, talking another step back.
"But why?" Once I asked this, I realized it was a mistake. It's exactly what they wanted me to say, as an excuse to take out their frustration on me.
"Oh don't act so innocent! A boy called while you were busy getting primped up in your room. Don't think we're stupid. We will absolutely not allow our daughter to be a- a -" My dad stopped, taking a deep breathe. And suddenly I was angry, right along with them.
"A what, dad? A what? Tell me what you were going to say!" I yelled, shaking.
"A whore! I will not allow my daughter to go around with boys like a little whore!" He yelled back, a vein popping up in his forehead.
"I'm not a whore, nor do I go around with guys!" I screeched. I silently prayed to God that this would end alright. I really hated arguing with my parents every time we're together. "You know what, I'm just gonna go. I'll be back later tonight."
"Oh no you don't! Little girl, do not push me! You, get back in here right now! I mean it!" My dad's shouted commands faded as I ran farther from the house. My heart was pounding when I finally looked at where I'd ended up. It was a little park that my dad used to take me to when I was growing up. Back when things weren't complicated, back before he changed.
I don't know when he changed, maybe it was the first time he put his hands on me when I was in first grade. I still remember bits and pieces of those days. The terrifying memories that seem to haunt my dreams and are almost always just a layer under my every waking thought. I sit on a swing and swing back and forth until I'm high enough that I can just sort of float down. And I start to think . . .

I hear yelling, and I run into Mimi's room in my feetie pajamas at the age of seven. Mom and dad are fighting, and I see Mimi crying in the corner rocking back and forth with her eyes shut tight. I run over to her, but not before my dad sees me. It's like he's a crazed man with a gun and I just ran past him. He strikes me, telling me to go away before he does something worse and I fall on my small behind.
I don't cry, I just sit there confused. I realize that this is probably what happened to Mimi, and finally her crying makes sense. Now looking at her, I see she's praying. Some how, with all the noise I hear her last sentence.
"Mommy, what's happening?" she whispers to herself, not knowing I can hear her. She looks so broken, and I see a bruise starting to form on the side of her neck and I start crying. Yelling at my dad to stop it, crying to my mom to make him stop, begging Mimi to stop crying, and praying to God give me the strength to protect my sister.

I snap out of it and I realize that I'm actually crying and I can't really stop. I hear footsteps coming my way and I wonder who'd want to be at this deserted park, other than me. I took up and see him standing there. He was looking at me, wondering the same thing. I quickly try to clean off the smudged eye-liner and mascara. I sniffed a little and smiled at him halfheartedly.
"Hey, what're you doing here?" I ask, hoping my voice didn't sound like I was just crying.
"I could ask you the same thing." He said, smiling.
"Oh, I just kinda ended up here by mistake..." I said, feeling stupid.
"I called you." He said, abruptly.
"Oh God, that was you?" I blow out a deep sigh and throw my head back, looking at the sky. I didn't notice how late it had gotten.
"Yeah, what's wrong? You seem . . . well you seem like you did the first day I met you. Please don't tell me you're running away from home again." He sighs, and walks over to me. Sadly there's only one swing and I was already on it so he had to sit on the sand box beside me. His height wasn't helping his comfort level at all, it was a funny sight.
"Okay, talk to me."
"About what?" I asked stupidly.
"About anything, anything you want to talk about. I'm all ears." He said, pulling on his ears as if to make his words more trustworthy.
"I don't know what to say." I said, stupidly.
"Okay then, what's you're favorite color?" He asks, smiling.
"Blue and green." I said, feeling a smile creep up on my face.
"Well, what a surprise? Those are my favorite colors too." He smiled widely, laughing a little.
"What's you're favorite sport?" I asked, suddenly wanting to keep that smile on his face for as long as possible.
"Basketball, yours?"
"Volleyball and football. Sorry, basketball just doesn't excite me." I said laughing.
"What?! Basketball not exciting? I'm offended!" He put his hand on his heart, looking taken aback. I almost fell off my swing because I was laughing so hard.
"I said sorry!"
"Okay, you're temporarily forgiven." He smiles, widely once more before his smile slowly fades away. We're in complete silence and his green eyes are shining.
"Thank you." I said, looking into his eyes.
"Yeah, anytime." He said, smiling slightly.
And he leans in. He keeps looking from my lips to my eyes and back again. My heart is pounding and I'm doing the same. We're so aware of each other, it makes it hard to breathe. We're about to kiss when I hear a truck stop at the end of the park and head lights are shining on us. I shield my eyes and squint to see who the lunatic was driving the truck.
Then I see my dad in the driver's seat.
"Oh crap. It's my dad. You should go, thing's are not going to go well if you stay." I whisper at Marcus.
"But when am I going to see you again?"
"Tomorrow. I'll call you. Just go!" I whispered back. He smiled at me and ran. He ran fast. Really fast. I was impressed.
"Young lady, what the hell do you think you're doing here all alone?" My dad yells at me from the truck. Good, he didn't see Marcus.
"Nothing dad! Just taking a break." I said.
"From what?!" He yelled.
"You." I whisper.
The whole ride home, I can't stop thinking about Marcus. I can't wait 'til tomorrow . . .

Chapter Three:Sissy

I stayed up all night thinking about one thing . . . "love".

What is "love"? Is it really an emotion we