This is the story of me. First I will start by saying hey my name is Michael Lane Johnson. I am the only child of Craig Lane Johnson and Stacey McGuire Johnson. McGuire being my mothers maiden name. My father is a very controlling man. He likes things his way. He is six foot four, and is always in business attire. He is very serious about everything; controlling and serious could be labeled into the same category for him. He works as the manager at Highland Bank and Incorporated. He runs pretty much everything in that place. He doesn't even like having an assistant, because then it deviates some of the ordering around. His favorite part. My mother on the other hand is very sweet and kind, and worships the ground my father walks on. She stays at home to make sure everything is perfect for when father gets in. Mother is five foot three, and petite. She always dresses extremely nice for staying at home, most of the time. Every now and then you will catch her at the grocery store, and even then she looks like perfection. Now me on the other hand I am your average sixteen year old. I'm pale in the face with dark eyes and hair. Some would call me the most handsome kid in Missouri, and I do not agree. I am about five foot seven, and very petite for being a guy. Which upsets my father; if he had his way he would stretch me and make me taller, and inject me with everything he could to make me muscular to look like him. My wardrobe is very plain just your average t-shirt and pants, nothing to special. I go to school, study hard, and make good grades. Though I am not very athletic I prefer my focus to be on school, and so does my parents. I have a few friends, and by saying a few I mean a few; three to be exact. Tyler Turner he is my closest friend who has been there for me, and protected me so many occasions I can not even begin to fathom returning the favor. He is my go to for everything. He is taller than me coming in at a solid six foot five, and muscular. He looks like the guy you do not want to meet in a dark alley way, and his clothing choice does not help lighten that overview either. He prefers to wear dark shirts with regular blue jeans. He is more brute than brains; that's where I make up for him always being there. Then there is Tara Styles. Tara is my only female friend, and she likes to keep it that way. She is very protective of me when it comes to the females that is. Tara is a slender build of average height; with her punk attire fitting her almost perfectly. Then lastly there is Alex Williams. Alex is like Tyler just slender; with also the punk attire. He is Tyler's sidekick. If Tyler was not my friend I doubt very seriously that Alex would even look my way.

Now that you know the normal people in my life I will take you through a normal day. The first thing is I wake up bright and early. I have to shower everyday that includes washing hair. Even though it has been proven that washing everyday is not good for your hair. Father does not care about certain facts. Father stresses that his family looks as close to perfection as possible. I take a long shower, and let the water run over my slender frame to help with the reality of the night before. I hear father walking down the hall, and know that I should have already been out and dressed. Father likes everyone in the kitchen, or walking towards the kitchen when he does. He says a successful family is one that eats breakfast together. So I hurriedly get out trying not to move to fast though as the fresh bruises on my rib cage keep reminding me. I dry off, and get dressed in my normal attire of t-shirt and blue jeans. As I am making my way downstairs I hear father calling for me; I say calling but its more of yelling. I have to walk by the downstairs bathroom on the way to the kitchen, and always take one last look to make sure nothing is out of place in my appearance. And everything looks fine so I continue on into the kitchen to see father sitting at the table reading the morning paper. Mother is as usual at the stove preparing eggs and bacon. Every morning father demands to have scrambled eggs, two pieces of bacon, a slice of toast, and a cup of orange juice for all of us. As mother is finishing up the eggs I get up to help her get the plates and silverware ready, because she has not been feeling well lately. Father calmly tells me to sit back down, that that is a woman's job. I do as I am told, and take my seat back at the table. Mother then finishes up and plates breakfast. She places the pans in the sink,and then takes her seat at the table. Then we eat in silence. As father finishes up he stands and kisses mother on the cheek, and tells her that he loves her. He then turns his attention towards me, and says like always not to disappoint, and that he better not get a call. Do not worry you will soon know why he said that. After that he grabs his briefcase and walks out the door. Leaving mother and I at the table. As usual mother says nothing. Nothing at all. She grabs all the plates and glasses puts them in the sink, and proceeds to wash them. I sit a few more minutes contemplating if I want to ask her that question "Why?". But I don't I just get up, and go upstairs to get all of my belongings for school. I walk in to a plain room occupied by my full size bed right in front of the door, a dresser with six drawers to the right, and a desk and chair with a simple lamp on it in the far right corner. I look around the room and realize that everything is out of place. My books are not on my desk, my book bag is not hanging on the back of the chair, and that the bottom left drawer is over by the far wall. A brief memory of the night before plays over in my head, and I realize why my room is in such disarray, sighing, I enter my room fully. As I am gathering my books from the floor I wonder to myself will it end. Will this ever end. Will I ever get the courage to say something. Then I realize as I am standing that I am weak, I never have the strength to do anything about any of it. I feel my eyes start to water as I realize the harsh reality of my life, and that my body is screaming at me to stop moving so much. I put my books in my bag which I got from the far corner in my room, pick up the drawer and what occupies it, and put it back in the dresser. I sit on my bed, and wipe the water from my eyes knowing that it does not help to cry. It does not help to dwell on something I am to weak to fight back on. I shake my head trying to get myself to focus on now; instead of last night and many previous nights as well. I stand realizing that the bus will be coming in about three minutes. While slinging my book bag on my back I walk out of my room, and shut the door on the night before. As I get down to the bottom of the stairs I see mother gathering the laundry for the day. "Hey Mom". "Hello Michael, you are going to be late". "Yes'mam, love you". That was our conversation every morning it never changed. I walk outside, and stand at the end of the concrete driveway waiting for the bus. Mrs. Norris the neighbor to our right is out watering her garden like every morning. Mrs. Franklin the neighbor to our left is out in her normal inappropriate attire; putting mail in the mailbox, and our neighbor directly in front Mr. Lindsey is yelling at Mrs. Franklin to put more clothes on. It is the same thing every morning. And yet no one says anything about what happens at night. This neighborhood helps me in feeling that I am alone. Finally after what feels like hours the bus comes pulling up. Now my bad day truly begins.

I step on the bus and greet Mr. Henry. He always has a smile on his face. As I am looking down the bus I see all of the normal people. Six of cheerleaders in the back being to loud. A couple of baseball players chatting about what a good season they will have. The football guys that take up five seats talking about how they crushed the Rockets the night before. Football is everything to this town, sadly. The group of skaters who keep to themselves, and then there is me. I take my seat three seats behind the driver, and hope that the football players were to excited to notice that I got on. As the bus starts to pull away I hear them still raving about the awesome victory, and sigh a sigh of relief. As I stare out the window I wonder how life would be if my father wasn't my father. I could see myself wanting to venture out, and go and do things. But instead I hide in my shell trying to make myself as little as possible, and hope no one notices me. I see all the happy families riding to school together, and the groups of friends just laughing away. It makes me hate that I don't do well with groups. I have a hard time trusting people if that was not already obvious. The bus comes to its next stop, and that when "she" gets on. This is one of the only females that actually scares me. Her name is Alice Stevens. She is six foot one, and muscular. She is the only female on the weigh-lifting team so that should tell you something. I try to keep my eyes looking out of the window, but my brain is screaming at them to see where Alice sits. Alice always flirts a little to much, and likes to get a little to close. Alice is the one that Tyler and Tara are always having to confront, along with Alice's group of friends. I tense as I realize that Alice sat next to me in the seat. She puts her arm on the seat behind me "hey Michael how are you today?" "I'm fine". You don't look fine Michael, why are you so tense" she says while laughing. "no reason". I try to keep it short hoping she would just leave me alone. "Aww come on Michael whats the matter with my little pet today huh?" "I'm fine Alice just tired" "Okay whatever" she says as the bus comes to a stop again, and Tyler gets on. My body relaxes as Alice then gets up without having to be told to by Tyler, and he sits beside me. "That bad huh?' he says. "Yeah just glad your stop is right after hers." "I know, so you alright" he asks with a concerned look. "I'm fine just a little sore." "Did he hit you again?" "Yeah, but I'm fine". "Whatever you say Michael, I'm telling you, you just need to come and move in with me." "I know I wish I could". "So Michael" he said poking my shoulder, "did you finish the math homework". I laugh as I hand my book bag to Tyler. I sat there leaning against the window realizing how bad of a day it would truly be if Tyler got sick, and had to miss school. He always came at the right time, and not just on the bus, because he is the next stop but all throughout the day. I was wondering how I was going to get through today with my sides hurting like they are. I mentally sigh as I realize that I will just get through the day, and will probably become numb to the pain. Tyler shrugs me into reality as we are pulling up to the school. As usual we wait until everyone else gets off the bus before we fall in line behind them.