An idea I had, it's a rough copy and needs fixing. Please Review :D

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"You irresponsible morons!" I screamed at my two older brothers who were goofing off in the living room...where all my Mothers breakable things were. "Stop, right now!"

"You're not older than us," Jack, the older one of the two, said. He laughed as Tom, my other brother, jumped on him. Jack slammed him into the couch, and they howled even louder.

"Thus, meaning we don't have to listen to you." Tom responded, laughing so hard I saw tears running down his pale face. He jumped on Jack again, and they horsed around the large, but fragile, living room. Jacks long hair fell over his face, and he pushed it back to see.

"You'll break something! Meaning, you'll blame me and I'll get in trouble for it!" I steadied a Vase that was threatening to fall and smash all over the floor. Then I quickly dived on the floor, catching my Mothers favourite plant.

"We want you to get in trouble." Tom snarled, giving Jack a major wedgie. "So that's why, whoa-" As I sat up, Jack tripped over my legs, causing them both to fall foreword. Before they even hit the ground, I knew it wasn't going to end well.

Jack bumped the table, causing my Mothers Vase to fall to the floor, smashing into thousands of tiny pieces. "No!" I screamed, stand up and rushing over to the mess that might just cost me my life. "You idiots, look what you did!"

Tom looked at me, then gave me a cocky smile. "No," he said, standing up and brushing off his pants as if dirt was on it, "look what you did."

Jack agreed as he stood up, then they laughed at me and walked out of the room.

Great.

"Oh wait," Tom said, peaking his head back into the room, "look around you. The Vase isn't the only thing you have to clean up."

At that, I dared a peak around me...and I felt tears weld up in my eyes. The couch in the middle of the room had a stain of some sort on it, the picture over the fire place was cracked. The fireplace, which was between the couch and my Mothers Vase, had tiny figures on top...which were fallen over.

I clutched my hands into fists, wanting to just go and push my brothers out into the cold. This wasn't fair, I didn't do any of this.

So why should I clean it up?

I walked out of the living room, and walked down the hall to the kitchen. Making a right, I entered, looking at my brothers who sat around the island in the middle, laughing over something that probably wasn't all that funny. "Listen, you idiots," I said, walking closer and getting their full attention, "I'm not cleaning that up, you can. It's your mess."

Tom smirked. "Yes, it's our mess, but...you're the one they think did it, remember?"

I rested my hands on my hips, knowing they were right. I looked around to stall the time, looking at the sink to the right of me, the cups hanging under the cabinets beside the sink, then back at Tom. "Yea, I remember. So either way I'll get in trouble. I'm not cleaning it." I grinned, putting my chin up high. "I'm not cleaning it." Then, swiftly, I turned around, flipping my long brown hair, and strode out of the kitchen, going straight and up the stairs.

Could my life get any worse? Sure, we have the money, I don't have to do any work, but I hate getting blamed all the time. And when my Mother gets home, I'll be in so much trouble it's not even funny.

I walked over to my bed that was across the right wall, collapsing on top it, cuddling up to a green pillow. I just wanted to sleep, dream peacefully...but of course I wouldn't, because I know what to expect from my parents soon.

I suddenly shuddered, feeling a cold draft washing over me. I lifted my head to find my balcony door opened by the head of my bed, the curtains flapping in the room like wild birds. I sighed, lifting myself up and over to the balcony. I closed the door, only now to feel like an ice cube...I hate winter.

I looked around my small, green room. The computer up against the left wall, and my bed with a night stand on the right. There was a walk-in-closet beside the computer desk, it held all my clothes, shoes, anything...I love it in there.

I grabbed a green silk fleece blanket, wrapping it around myself. Sitting on my bed, I watched the clock on my wall, waiting for my parents to get home to get this fight over with.

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A door downstairs slammed shut, causing me to jolt off my bed. The blanket slid off my shoulders onto the floor. I counted the seconds, it shouldn't take my brothers long to tell my parents what happened. And it wouldn't take my parents long to come up here and scream at me.

"What!?" I heard my Mother scream. I strained my hearing, then heard her loud gasp. I'm assuming she's looking at the living room. There was stomping up the stairs, then my door flung open. Two angry parents stood there glaring at me.

I smiled at them. "Mother, Father." I greeted them.

"Don't give me that shit," my Father screamed, "what the hell is wrong with you? Why did you do that?"

I laughed, despite everything that was going to happen. "Well, your precious boys were fooling around and broke everything." I laughed again, taking a step back. "Oh wait! I forgot! Of course they couldn't of done it, right? It was all me, right? Since, I always do everything wrong," I stretched out some words.

"Don't talk to me like that!" my Father bellowed, stepping closer. "Go clean that up!"

I snorted. "Cleaning? Right..." I looked at my nails. "I'm not cleaning it." I looked up at them, my long brown hair falling in my face, and my arms crossed over my chest. I narrowed my eyes. I wasn't going to be mad, I wasn't going to act like they controlled me.

"Oh, you're cleaning it!" my Mother said, flipping her short blond hair, narrowing her eyes. She strode closer, like a cat coming to meet it's prey. "You will clean it. Don't be worthless."

I shrugged, keeping it as cool as possible. "Um, right...I'll do that...later." I turned around, walking towards the balcony.

My dad shook his head in disappointment, his long hair moving over his face. My Mother disappeared into my closet. "Why..." my Father mumbled.

"Why?" I bellowed, spinning around to look at him. "Why? Why what, Father? Why am I like this? I'll tell you, because of all you! Maybe if you guys thought-"

"Okay," my Mother said coming out of the room, "lets go."

I looked at her, pissed she cut me off. "What?" then I noticed the suit case in her hand.

"You're too much trouble. I'm sick of it. Howard, take her." I looked at my Father, who only shrugged and grabbed my arm. I struggled under his grasp, but it only hurt more.

My Mother opened the door downstairs, throwing my suit case outside. Then my dad tossed me down the steps. I stumbled into the cold snow, and I felt the stairs scrape my arms. I yelled in pain, clutching my stomach. She threw me a thin coat, then looked at me. "I hate to do this. I'm sick of you ruining my home. Go, get lost." Then she slammed the door.

"Mother!" I yelled, climbing back up the steps. "Mother! Father! Please!" I cried, feeling lost, empty, and cold. "Mother! Please, don't do this to me again!"

I sat down on the steps. This happened all the time, they'll let me back in.

Only, I'd like to hope so.

After two hours of pleading and crying outside, I figured they were serious. I thought my tears would freeze on my cheeks any second. I took my suit case, then walked down the street. Wherever I ended up, it must be better than here.

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R&R???? Please :)