Broken Glass

Growing up wasn't fun when you lived in the house with Alisa. She was mean. She was mean to me. She talked mean to me. Looked mean to me. Did mean things to me. I got over it and she did too.

One day she had a boy over. He was ugly. I didn't like him. My mom wasn't home and my mean sister was left in charge of me. She told me to go outside to get her something then she locked the door so I couldn't come back in. Meeny.

I went to the side door and knocked and knocked. She wouldn't let me in.

I went to the front door and knocked and knocked. She wouldn't let me in.

I saw her and the ugly boy sitting on the couch. I could see them plain as day through the front door window. They could see me. My sister and her ugly boyfriend sat on the couch and laughed at me banging on the door to get back in the house. She wasn't budging to open the door for me. I told her to come to the door. She came to the door. She put her face to the window and laughed some more. I banged so hard my hand went through the window and the glass broke and flew into her face. I stuck my hand through the broken glass and opened the door myself. There stood my sister bleeding from her face with glass shattered everywhere. Not too funny now, huh?

She got in trouble and I have anxiety attacks.