"Mommy, I'm sorry," I sobbed. I couldn't see her, as my face was hidden beneath my hands, but I could just imagine her. Hands on hips, she would be looking down at me sternly.
"Sorry doesn't cut it!" she yelled. "It still happened!" I cried even harder when she yelled. I glanced over at my dad who was sitting on the couch. It was watching the scene with a twinkle in his eyes, and he had a sinister grin on his face. He wasn't doing anything to stop my mother.
"Crying is for babies! You're just a worthless, no good, mistake of a child!" she snapped.
Suddenly, she picked me up by my shirt collar and practically threw me in my room. I landed on my butt and sobbed harder as the pain coursed through my body.
"I hate you! It's all you fault, and not you'll sit in here and think about what you did!" she yelled as she slammed by bedroom door shut.

I jolted out of bed with a startled yelp. Sweat was running down my forehead and my heart was beating rapidly. This was the second time in four days I had been awaken by old memories.
Tonight's particular memory had been when I was six. My mom had tripped over a shoe that had been laying in the middle of the living room. It had been the shoe she had left there only minutes before, but she didn't care about that. She vented her anger on the nearest thing, which happened to be me at the time. My dad had carelessly stolled in and sat down on the couch. He watched the whole thing and never tried to protect me. It was like he was pleased that my mother was yelling at me. That was the first time my parents mistreated me. It was also then that I realized my mom and dad didn't love me. I was young so I believed everything she said about me that night. That I was worthless and didn't deserve to live. Since my dad didn't contradict her, I just thought it was what he believed also. It took my a couple of years to figure out that I had a right to continue living.
I shook my head vigorously, trying to rid the images of that night. Glancing over at the clock I saw it was almost five in the afternoon. I curse silently and tried to fall back asleep. I had to go to work in about an hour. Currently I was a bartender at a club called "Poison." Lucky for me I didn't have to travel far to get to work, I lived in the apartment above the club. I lay in bed for another five minutes before deciding I wasn't going to fall back asleep.
Slowly I got out of bed and roamed to the living room. There were five people laying around. One was another bartender who lived up here with me. Another was a bouncer, who often slept on the couch. The rest were random people who had gotten drunk and didn't have a place to stay for the night, so we let the sleep over.
Quietly I headed over to the fridge and peered inside. Seeing as neither of us spent much time grocery shopping there wasn't an abundance of food. A six pack of Bud Light, two Cokes, and some week old chicken from KFC. I grabbed a coke and took a sip. I gagged slightly as the unfamiliar flavorings reached my taste buds.
Lazily I scanned the apartment. It was dark, dull, and unkempt. Clothes and trash were spread all over the floor. There was a old, tattered couch that had a design from the seventies. A pile of old pizza boxes served as some sort of end table. There was an elderly table in the diminutive kitchen. All the chairs had been broken. Some had been thrown against the wall in rage and had smashed into a million pieces. Others had just worn away till nobody could safely sit on them, and they were thrown away.
There was no electrical equipment of any kind. If I wanted news all I had to do was ask some local that visited the club. We would never had time to use the television or radio if there was one. From six in the afternoon to nine in the morning we both worked downstairs. The rest of the day we slept, recovering from the previous nights stress.
I took another sip and went back to my room. Before entering I looked around. My room wasn't any better than the rest of the apartment. I didn't really have a bed. Just a mattress and a box spring covered with black sheets. I did, however, have and a medium size table I had found in the alley one day. I had painted it black and brought it home. On top of it was a cheap clock and a pack of cigarettes. Out dated magazines, and clothes were strewn on the floor. The room had a closet but I didn't really use it. Occasionally, I would actually hang my laundry in there. But usually I just sorted my clothes into two piles, clean and dirty.
The clock read 5:45 p.m. I would have to go to work in fifteen minutes. I undressed quickly and put on the standard uniform. A black no sleeved shirt with the club logo, and black bondage pants. I guess you could call the club a gothic club, since most of the people that came were either goth or punk. But I didn't mind, they were my type of people anyways.
I meandered to the bathroom. There was the toilet and the shower. The shower was pretty bad, and need to be cleaned. The shower curtain was worn and ragged. Although the bathroom smelled nice since there was always a vanilla candle burning. Cautiously I peered into the mirror.
My reflection was always the same. Pale skin, which I've had since I was baby. Jet black hair, that used to be dirty blonde, with auburn streaks.. My hair was straight, and went about three inches past my ears. It was definitely my favorite feature, since I never had to mess with it. High cheek bones surrounded a petite nose. Perfectly carved eyebrows rimmed full jade colored eyes.
When I turned sixteen I had gone against my mother's wishes and gotten a piercing. First is was my ears, two holes in each ear. Then I kept going back. Next thing I knew, I had five holes in each ear, two piercing in my right eyebrow, and stud in my nose, a lip ring, a tongue ring, and my belly button. After that I had gone for a tattoo. My first was a pentacle, on my lower back. Next came a white tiger on my left ankle, and a ruby snake on my right ankle. The tiger symbolized strength while the snake symbolized agility and power. I had a rose on my hand, with the vines and thorns branching out across it. The last tattoo was a circle of flames around my left upper arm. Now, I was thinking about getting another one, but I just couldn't think of what image to get.
I rushed to put on some jewelry and make up. A spiked dog collar, a pentacle, and several other chains and beads went around my neck. A spiked wristband and black, silver, red, and purple bracelets were put on next. I covered my eyelids with black eyeshadow. I had mascara, but I didn't like to use it. Usually I ended up getting it in my eye. Purple glitter smeared on my face was next. I don't know why I used the glitter, I just liked it. Last, I put on a coat of black lipstick. I stuck the tube in my back pocket just in case I need to reapply later.
I hurried out of the bathroom and down to the club. I didn't bother waking my roommate, he'd probably wake up in a couple of minutes and come running downstairs. The boss didn't mind if we were late sometimes, she knew the problems we faced.
Went I got downstairs I entered the club through the small door. I paced over behind the bar and prepared for a night of hard work.