My eyes peer out the window, while street lights make the sandy colored path walk illuminate. It is quiet as usual, and every light in our apartment is out. My eyes begin to flutter, as I start to dose off. But a bright light shoves its way into my room, as If it had no respect for my sleep. Followed by the bright light, I hear a running car, with a loud cracking noise blurting in-between the cycle of the car’s engine running. It definitely was not the shiny black fresh car my mother was observing online last night. My curiosity takes over, and I slowly climb down the white cold rails that connect my sister and I’s bunk beds together. My tiptoe attempt was ended with three loud squeaking sounds coming from that stubborn latter that rests between our beds. But, when I make it down my sisters snores are still competing with the small air purifier on the other side of the room.

My mother says we have to keep it running, so my sister is able to breathe while she sleeps. I don’t mind too much, at least I don’t have to just listen to the “bear” that seems to only come out at night, and rest beneath my bed. But now, every night “the bear” aka my sister and the air purifer have been battling it out, my sister always wins, her snores are so loud they’d wake a ninety year old man with an unfunctional hearing aid. Not only does my sister need an air purifer, but a lot of other devices and small bottles of liquid that she drinks. My sister, Michaela resembles my thin figure, and my facial features, but some differ. She is much shorter than me; she is two years younger than my nine year old self. Plus her light brown hair flows down longer than my golden blonde bob cut. My mom says, the bob cut suits me well, ever since she tried the duo on me when I was five or so, it’s just stuck. What mom doesn’t understand is that was four years ago, and the same hairstyle for a long time is about as boring as watching jepardy on the television.

Michaela continues too snore, and I wonder why she even needs so much sleep, for she hardly ever doesn’t miss a day off school. Her constant doctor appointments, and getting blood drawn at the hospital, leave her in class a couple times a week. She is always going to the doctors, and mom even treats her with snack here and there at McDonalds or burger king. I wonder why I am the one sitting in elementary school, while Michaela pigs out the local fast food restaurant. But, then I remember I must be lucky, because she can’t even eat my favorite food, ice-cream, or anything with milk in it. She’s lactose intolerant. But, recently she was able to get these small tablets, that she says taste good like ice-cream, and let her have milk products without her being sick. She let me taste one, and I spit out right away, it definitely did not taste like ice-cream. Maybe she forgot the taste, since she couldn’t have it, and now thinks the tablets taste like ice-cream. I continue tiptoeing and try my hardest to quietly shut my brother, Jordan’s door. Another attempt ends with a fail, because the door screeches and I catch him shake at the noise. Thankfully, He rolls over, and his eyes don’t even budge. Jordan is four years younger me, and probably the cutest five year old I have ever seen. His cheeks are rosy, and his face is pale. But he is always smiling and playing with a new toy truck, or car.

His hair is short, and in-between the color of Michaela and I’s. He has a button nose, and laugh that is contagious. Now that the door is shut, I tip toe back to the window, and get a better glance at the outside. It’s odd that someone’s head lights are shining right above my window, which doesn’t happen often. Not this late at night, in our driveway. In our apartment it’s just my mom, Michaela, Jordan, and me. So, it’s very unusual that someone would be coming over. I glance at the clock, twelve pm, who would be coming over at twelve at night? I look out the window, and manage to make out the features of a man. He gets out of his car, and shuts the door, loudly. He’s tall, and very thick. He has a lot of weight on him, a long thick black beard, and black hair in a ponytail. His eyes look red, and fierce. He has a black jacket, some jeans, and a long silver change wrapped around his pocket. I felt as if he was looking at me, and turned away, his face scared me, and I hoped that you he wasn’t about to break in our house. But, seconds later, I heard a brief knock. My face was expressionless, and I ran to my door shut it and locked it. I pressed my ear against the wall, and breathed quickly, but quietly enough to not hear. I heard my mother’s door open and walk swiftly down the stairs. I worried, and wondered if I should open my door, run down and save her from this beastly man about to walk in our home. But, then I realized we’d probably both just get hurt, and it wouldn’t work.

I crossed my fingers, and intrigued kept listening. I waited for the screaming of my mother, for me to run to her and rescue her. But, I heard nothing. I was confused and guessed that maybe the man had left, and must have had the wrong house. Wow, maybe I was over reacting probably just some over aged guy who thought he was still sixteen, and played video games and lived in his mom’s basement. But, then I hear, is that laughing? Laughing, my mother is laughing at the creepy guy who lives in his mom’s basement. What? I wonder. I slide open my door and swiftly and quietly go to the top of the stairs, and peek around the corner. But carefully enough that my mom doesn’t see me. Believe it or not, there my mother is laughing, and even smiling at this guy. She holds him tight, and even begins to kiss him. Here, in our apartment. The only person I want to see in my apartment is my dad, coming to pick us up for the weekend, to spend our time with him. But, instead I see this…man who has a scraggly beard, and face that could scare away the most friendly person. I feel betrayed, by mother, and disgusted especially with her bad option of looks. I run too my room, climb quickly up to my share of the bunk bed, and smash my pillow on both sides of my ears, trying to block out any sign of this man in our house, my eyes fill with tears, and I cry myself to sleep. I wake up the next morning for school, and push away last night’s events, thinking it was just a dream. I climb into bed with my mom, and she talks to me softly, and tells me all the plans for after school, and when she’ll pick us up after work. Then, I climb out of the bed, she gets all three of us ready, and we’re out the door.

It seems to go by, days, then weeks, then months. The same routine everything seems normal. But, it turns out my “dream” was reality and the man keeps returning to our house at twelve, one or two, in the morning. I’ve gotten used to the smell of smoke reeking after his stay, and my mom’s constant smile, which I do not understand how it comes from him. The one thing I do not understand, is exactly why my mother has not even introduced us to this scraggly odd looking man. Myself, I don’t even want to look him in the eye, even when I peek out the window in the middle of the night, to see his face. But, it creeps me out that this odd man comes over every night, and I have no clue to who he is. But, tonight everything will change. I am sitting alongside, my brother and sister, my mom and him are sitting in front of us. My mother is holding her stomach with hand; the other is attached to his. “Guys this is Rob.” She manages to squeal out. Her smile seems like it will never break. I glare at him. She now says, “And we’re pregnant.” My eyes open wide, I want to scream, I want punch this guy right in the face. “What?” My voice barely manages to say. The next thing I know, I am sitting on a bed, with a colorful floral print, and “Rob” is yelling loudly, in the kitchen. Who knows what it could even be about now. I am ten now. Just last year, what seems to have been just a few minutes ago, I was sitting there with my “parents” or mom and my mom’s boyfriend explain their blessing as mom put it. It doesn’t seem like a blessing to me. It seems more like a situation.

One that should not have happened. But, mom did also call her blessing, and accident. This I will agree with her on. Zoey, my one year old half-sister sits in her high chair and cries loudly. Rob’s voice is over her waling cries, and the more he yells, the more she cries. He screams now, and I hear a loud thump. The thump off my brother being thrown on the floor. My tiny six year old brother. My mom’s voce comes chiming in like bells in the other room. She comes in, and I hear my other sister crying, telling her what happened. But, mom says she doesn’t know what she’s talking about. Mom doesn’t think that Rob, the love of her life, is hurting us. Mom doesn’t care that Rob is hurting us. I cover my ears, as I did in the pillow. This is my way of blocking out the reality of my new life with Rob. Everything that is happening is unheard.