The walk sign appeared, and I walked across the street, my backpack thumping against my back, the normal sounds of our city muffling others. I dreaded going home, as I knew my mom would be drunk again, and my sister wouldn't be able to save me from her abusive words to me again. I wished my dad was here, then maybe my life would be better.

In case you didn't know, I'm Lyra. Lyra Ava Asearia. My father left the family when I was two. My mother's been torn up since, and has become an alcoholic to drown her sorrow in beer, wine, and other crap. I was raised by my older sister, Angie. Angie was eight when our father left. She raised me, fed me, took me to school. She became more of a mother and a best friend to me than a sister. My other sister, Raquel, would have been raised with us, but she drowned in freezing water when she was six (She decided to go ice-skating on thin ice in the winter. It broke under her, and the only thing they recovered from the lake in the spring was her tattered clothes and sparkly blue ice skates.) Now Angie's 22, and her once big dreams of becoming an actress were shattered. She juggles two jobs, a barista and a night shift store worker. With her pay, we barely have enough for bills and food.

I sighed, and glanced up. I quickly stopped, as I almost ran into a boy with shaggy blonde hair, pale skin dotted with freckles, and dark brown eyes.

"S-sorry." I stuttered, almost getting lost in his eyes. They were extremely mesmerizing. I pulled myself out of his gaze and sped-walked away. I felt his gaze on my back as I hunched over, my face bright red.

I finally reached the shabby apartment I called home. Six stories high, made of dull brick and crappy windows, it wasn't much of a place one would 'great.' I walked inside and into the staircase. Walking up the four flights of stairs, I got my key out of my pocket and braced myself for the insults. Slipping the silver key into the door-knob, I quietly opened the door.

I glanced up at the small living room. The once pure white carpet was now a dirty beige-ish, stained with beer and other drinks my mother spilled. The small TV we owned sat atop a small desk, littered with cookbooks, broken glass, and cords. Dirty clothes, boxes, and empty glass bottles littered the floor. The strong smell of beer hit my nose and I wrinkled it in disgust. The chocolate brown couch we owned held a passed out mother. Her long, disgusting brown hair was laid across the arm of the couch. Her vibrant green eyes were half-open, and a bit of drool trailed out of her mouth. She held a half empty beer bottle in her hand.

I silently groaned, and quietly walked to the kitchen to grab a snack after the shutting the door. A sticky note was stuck on the refrigerator door: ~Hey Ly, Gonna be home late today! :( Save some food for me! -Ang~ I let out a little chuckle. Opening the door and grabbing an apple, I walked into mine and Angie's room. Our hardwood floor was nice and clean. She slept on her bed on the right side of the wall, while I stole the left. In between our beds on the wall was a tiny calendar. Her wall was covered in sticky note reminders about work and money. She had one photo taped to her wall. It was of me and her when she had a complete day off. We had gone to the park, then to a movie, and to get ice cream. Then we walked around some shops, got dinner afterwards, and then laid down in the park under the stars. It was a great day, and a smile never left our faces.

But that was a couple years ago. Now she was almost never home. I looked over at my side of the room. Littered with pictures of places and things that meant a lot to me, like the park or the ice cream place. The most important one was on the ceiling above my head, so I could see it before I fell asleep. It was a family photo made before our father left. I was a couple months old, and Angie was six. Her soft hair fell around her shoulders as a giant smile covered her face. My fathers' arm was around my mothers' shoulders and he held her close. His other hand was resting on Angie's shoulders. My mom was holding me close and was smiling. Her eyes was smiling big as well. She was so happy back then.

Then my father had to go and ruin it by leaving. And what a great life he left.