A Journal Never Lies, chapter 6
She woke to the blaring of the alarm clock next to her bedside. Shutting it off lazily, it fell to the ground. She threw the pillow on top of her head to block her from the sun that was shining in her room. She wondered what time it was. Instead of getting up, she ended up falling back to sleep.
She fell hard to the ground. She held her face where she had been hit. The rage in her parent's eyes, in Frank's eyes. The screaming of her brother and parents. "You're nothing to this family!" the yelling of her mother insulting her brother. Sitting on the ground where she fell, not knowing if she should get up or stay down. Finally, her parents leaving, but the look on their faces telling her that she hadn't seen the last of them.
"Alex? You awake?"
She woke up and rubbed her eyes. She looked around and saw Mike sitting on the side of her bed, a smile on his face. She could tell he had been up for awhile. Mike was always the morning person, since he always had a cup of coffee in his hands to keep him awake. "Yeah, I am now."
"Are you okay? 'Cause when I came in, you looked like you were in the middle of a bad dream." Mike looked concerned, but that was how he always was around her.
Flashbacks from the previous night came back. She shooed them away and put on a fake smile. "Yeah, Mike. Everything is just fine."
He smiled, "Well, okay then. Get up. I made breakfast!" Mike was always proud of himself when he cooked. He got so excited when people were about to take the first bite, the food always ending up to be terrific. With her smile still glued to her face, she told him she would be down in a few minutes.
Getting herself out of bed seemed to take hours. She felt limp. After she got herself up, she walked over to her mirror, inspecting herself. She ran her hand along where she hurt, along her hip. She lifted her shirt just enough to see why she was in so much pain. There was a bruise. Thinking about last night, she remembered falling hard to the ground. That was probably where that bruise came from. Since she was near a mirror, she looked at her face from were her father had put his hand on her. All that was left was a faint pink outline on her cheek. She shrugged it off in a way, being used to that type of abuse.
When she was younger, her parents were the exact way they were to that present day. It seemed like they were always drinking and smoking daily, no matter what day it was. On holidays more drinking occurred. She always was their target since she was the "weaker" child. When she was young, around four or five, Frank was their target, because she was too young. All of the beating he got hurt her. She couldn't bear to see him get that treatment. Little did she know that she was next. When her beating began, she knew how Frank felt. She always wondered why she was being hurt, what she ever did to them. But all she could ever think up was that they hated her.
Walking down the stairs, the smell of pancakes filled the air. Mike always added something into them, like blueberries or chocolate chips. She hadn't had pancakes better than Mike's. The smells lingered around her, making her hungrier by the second. She took a seat next to Billie Joe and waited for her plate of pancakes to appear in front of her.
"Soo, Alex," Frank said in between each bite, "you coming with us today?"
"Coming where?" She was confused about what he had said.
"Remember? We're recording today? You coming?"
She suddenly remembered that today was the day their band was going to record their first record. "Oh yeah! Of course I wanna come! When are you leaving?"
"Umm, I think in like an hour."
She smiled and ate the rest of her breakfast. She ran back upstairs to plan what she was going to wear. She decided on her black Ramones shirt with jeans and her black Converse. She walked into the bathroom and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Applying her black eyeliner, or "war paint," as she calls it, took only a few minutes. In a total of about twenty minutes she was done and ready to go. She ran downstairs to find that no one else looked even ready to get dressed.
She sighed from their laziness, "Come on, guys. We're going to be late. You guys still have to get dressed and that crap, and load all your stuff in the van."
Mike chuckled, "We still have like twenty minutes, Al, we have time."
"Well," Frank said with a yawn, "I think I'm gonna go get dressed before." Frank pointed to her, "Miss Mother over there tells us to get ready."
"Me too," Billie Joe and Mike said in unison. With only five minutes to spare, all three laziest men in the home were done.
"See, Alex?" Frank said. "We made it in time."
"Yeah, but you still have to get your crap in the car to take recording."
"Oh shit! I almost forgot. Alex, give us a hand, will ya?"
She sighed, but helped anyway.
She looked out her window the whole ride there. She just kept thinking. She thought about her life before she moved in with Frank, how much it sucked. Then she thought about all the horrible memories with her parents. But then, good memories came into her mind. All the good times with her brother, with Mike, and with Billie Joe. They were the good memories, and she would keep with herself forever. She smiled the rest of the way to the recording studio.
The car stopped and she looked to see where she was. The building seemed to be only two stories, not that big. On the door, large letters saying "Art of Ears Studio" were printed on it. She knew this was it. She felt so excited. She was so happy for her brother, Billie Joe, and Mike. They were finally getting the record they've been working towards for so long. They were the only people she knew that deserved this. They all got out and she walked toward the door. Suddenly, a man, looking in his mid twenties, came to greet her.
"Hello! Welcome to the Art of Ears Studio! I'm Lawrence Livermore, owner of Lookouts! Records. What band are you in? Or are you here for a tour?" The man seemed a little over happy.
"Hi, I'm Alex. I'm here with my brother and his band, Green Day. I thought this was Lookout! Records that they were recording at?"
"Well, they signed a deal with Lookout! Records. But they're recording at Art of Ears Studio. But, we don't have a 'Green Day' for a recording session here."
She was confused. But she instantly remembered, "Oh! Green Day is here for a recording session. They are probably under the name 'Sweet Children,' but they changed their name to 'Green Day.'"
Lawrence searched through his list he was carrying and smiled. He looked up to her, "Oh, yes. Here they are. Okay, well tell them to come up to room 217 on the second floor whenever they are ready."
"Okay, thank you." She went over to the band and told them her conversation.
After hours of recording, the four of them loaded up the car and headed on home. She, lucky for her, brought along her journal with her.
May 11, 1989,
Well, today was really just a typical day. Nothing bad, nothing that great. I went to go see Green Day record. It was fun. But, my energy seemed to be drained when I was sitting in the car on the drive there. I felt depressed. All I've been thinking about this whole day was last night. It won't get out of my head. Is this normal to keep thinking about it? I don't think it is. My parents' rude behavior from last night keeps replaying in my head, over and over again. How I hate them so much for making my life a living hell. I hope one day, they'll go through all the pain they put me through.
I wonder if teachers have noticed I'm not in school anymore. Probably not. The teachers never cared at all about me. Oh well, it's not like anyone is making me go. I think I just won't mention anything to them about it, incase they do make me go. I doubt they would, all three of them are the coolest people ever.
Here it goes again! The flashbacks! They won't get out of my fucking head! I feel like shooting my brain out so I won't have to relive these memories. I hate them! I really hate them and want them to go away! When I sleep, they are more detailed. When I'm awake, they are still there. They won't leave me the hell alone. I know this isn't normal. It can't be. I think I may be going crazy. This is all because of my fucking parents. How I hate them so much, wanting them dead each and every day. They never loved me, and they never will. One day though, they are going to experience my pain.
She closed her journal and locked it. Placing it on her nightstand, she pulled the covers over herself. Her eyes became heavier, her dreams of her past coming into her head, becoming more detailed by the second. Soon, her dreams became her nightmares, her worst enemy.
She fell hard to the ground. She held her face where she had been hit. The rage in her parent's eyes, in Frank's eyes. The screaming of her brother and parents. "You're nothing to this family!" the yelling of her mother insulting her brother. Sitting on the ground where she fell, not knowing if she should get up or stay down. Finally, her parents leaving, but the look on their faces telling her that she hadn't seen the last of them.
"Alex? You awake?"
She woke up and rubbed her eyes. She looked around and saw Mike sitting on the side of her bed, a smile on his face. She could tell he had been up for awhile. Mike was always the morning person, since he always had a cup of coffee in his hands to keep him awake. "Yeah, I am now."
"Are you okay? 'Cause when I came in, you looked like you were in the middle of a bad dream." Mike looked concerned, but that was how he always was around her.
Flashbacks from the previous night came back. She shooed them away and put on a fake smile. "Yeah, Mike. Everything is just fine."
He smiled, "Well, okay then. Get up. I made breakfast!" Mike was always proud of himself when he cooked. He got so excited when people were about to take the first bite, the food always ending up to be terrific. With her smile still glued to her face, she told him she would be down in a few minutes.
Getting herself out of bed seemed to take hours. She felt limp. After she got herself up, she walked over to her mirror, inspecting herself. She ran her hand along where she hurt, along her hip. She lifted her shirt just enough to see why she was in so much pain. There was a bruise. Thinking about last night, she remembered falling hard to the ground. That was probably where that bruise came from. Since she was near a mirror, she looked at her face from were her father had put his hand on her. All that was left was a faint pink outline on her cheek. She shrugged it off in a way, being used to that type of abuse.
When she was younger, her parents were the exact way they were to that present day. It seemed like they were always drinking and smoking daily, no matter what day it was. On holidays more drinking occurred. She always was their target since she was the "weaker" child. When she was young, around four or five, Frank was their target, because she was too young. All of the beating he got hurt her. She couldn't bear to see him get that treatment. Little did she know that she was next. When her beating began, she knew how Frank felt. She always wondered why she was being hurt, what she ever did to them. But all she could ever think up was that they hated her.
Walking down the stairs, the smell of pancakes filled the air. Mike always added something into them, like blueberries or chocolate chips. She hadn't had pancakes better than Mike's. The smells lingered around her, making her hungrier by the second. She took a seat next to Billie Joe and waited for her plate of pancakes to appear in front of her.
"Soo, Alex," Frank said in between each bite, "you coming with us today?"
"Coming where?" She was confused about what he had said.
"Remember? We're recording today? You coming?"
She suddenly remembered that today was the day their band was going to record their first record. "Oh yeah! Of course I wanna come! When are you leaving?"
"Umm, I think in like an hour."
She smiled and ate the rest of her breakfast. She ran back upstairs to plan what she was going to wear. She decided on her black Ramones shirt with jeans and her black Converse. She walked into the bathroom and pulled her hair up into a ponytail. Applying her black eyeliner, or "war paint," as she calls it, took only a few minutes. In a total of about twenty minutes she was done and ready to go. She ran downstairs to find that no one else looked even ready to get dressed.
She sighed from their laziness, "Come on, guys. We're going to be late. You guys still have to get dressed and that crap, and load all your stuff in the van."
Mike chuckled, "We still have like twenty minutes, Al, we have time."
"Well," Frank said with a yawn, "I think I'm gonna go get dressed before." Frank pointed to her, "Miss Mother over there tells us to get ready."
"Me too," Billie Joe and Mike said in unison. With only five minutes to spare, all three laziest men in the home were done.
"See, Alex?" Frank said. "We made it in time."
"Yeah, but you still have to get your crap in the car to take recording."
"Oh shit! I almost forgot. Alex, give us a hand, will ya?"
She sighed, but helped anyway.
She looked out her window the whole ride there. She just kept thinking. She thought about her life before she moved in with Frank, how much it sucked. Then she thought about all the horrible memories with her parents. But then, good memories came into her mind. All the good times with her brother, with Mike, and with Billie Joe. They were the good memories, and she would keep with herself forever. She smiled the rest of the way to the recording studio.
The car stopped and she looked to see where she was. The building seemed to be only two stories, not that big. On the door, large letters saying "Art of Ears Studio" were printed on it. She knew this was it. She felt so excited. She was so happy for her brother, Billie Joe, and Mike. They were finally getting the record they've been working towards for so long. They were the only people she knew that deserved this. They all got out and she walked toward the door. Suddenly, a man, looking in his mid twenties, came to greet her.
"Hello! Welcome to the Art of Ears Studio! I'm Lawrence Livermore, owner of Lookouts! Records. What band are you in? Or are you here for a tour?" The man seemed a little over happy.
"Hi, I'm Alex. I'm here with my brother and his band, Green Day. I thought this was Lookout! Records that they were recording at?"
"Well, they signed a deal with Lookout! Records. But they're recording at Art of Ears Studio. But, we don't have a 'Green Day' for a recording session here."
She was confused. But she instantly remembered, "Oh! Green Day is here for a recording session. They are probably under the name 'Sweet Children,' but they changed their name to 'Green Day.'"
Lawrence searched through his list he was carrying and smiled. He looked up to her, "Oh, yes. Here they are. Okay, well tell them to come up to room 217 on the second floor whenever they are ready."
"Okay, thank you." She went over to the band and told them her conversation.
After hours of recording, the four of them loaded up the car and headed on home. She, lucky for her, brought along her journal with her.
May 11, 1989,
Well, today was really just a typical day. Nothing bad, nothing that great. I went to go see Green Day record. It was fun. But, my energy seemed to be drained when I was sitting in the car on the drive there. I felt depressed. All I've been thinking about this whole day was last night. It won't get out of my head. Is this normal to keep thinking about it? I don't think it is. My parents' rude behavior from last night keeps replaying in my head, over and over again. How I hate them so much for making my life a living hell. I hope one day, they'll go through all the pain they put me through.
I wonder if teachers have noticed I'm not in school anymore. Probably not. The teachers never cared at all about me. Oh well, it's not like anyone is making me go. I think I just won't mention anything to them about it, incase they do make me go. I doubt they would, all three of them are the coolest people ever.
Here it goes again! The flashbacks! They won't get out of my fucking head! I feel like shooting my brain out so I won't have to relive these memories. I hate them! I really hate them and want them to go away! When I sleep, they are more detailed. When I'm awake, they are still there. They won't leave me the hell alone. I know this isn't normal. It can't be. I think I may be going crazy. This is all because of my fucking parents. How I hate them so much, wanting them dead each and every day. They never loved me, and they never will. One day though, they are going to experience my pain.
She closed her journal and locked it. Placing it on her nightstand, she pulled the covers over herself. Her eyes became heavier, her dreams of her past coming into her head, becoming more detailed by the second. Soon, her dreams became her nightmares, her worst enemy.
