How it starts

Meet my personal hell

My name is Levi McPorter, I am 15 years old and go to a Performance and Art school in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania. My life was disappointing after my mom died and my father became an alcoholic. The only thing that made me feel better was school and Him. When I returned home, my life turned into yelling, slamming of doors, and Bud Light and Crown Royal bottles. My little sister, Stephanie, is 13 and she is daddy’s little princess, but no one told her that our mother died while coming out of her vagina. 

“Levi, come down here now,” my drunkin’ father yelled at me from the bottom of the staircase. My father is a handsome, Caucasian, mid-40’s man. He used to be an amazing father, loving, caring, then my mother died and he changed. He started drinking to free himself from his darkened reality.  My mother was even better, her name Victoria McPorter. She was a beautiful, extravagant, African-American woman. She had medium length, wavy-like hair. She was extremely educated, and well-driven.  My mother and father were high school sweethearts, but when they graduated high school they decided to date other people. Their love was too strong to be broken, so a couple of years later (after graduating collage) they got back together and had me.  I’m of course mixed, with wavy brown hair just like my mother’s. My hair would always give me issues, but my mother knew exactly how to do it every day.  I miss her so much that it hurts.

“Levi, come down here now you worthless bi-“my father said (unfortunately) interrupting my thoughts.

“I’m here, I’m here,” I said exhaustedly.

“Go get me another beer,”

“Why can’t you get it yourself?”

“Because I told you to, I’m the adult and you’re the child “I ignored his continued rambling and went and got him another Bud Light from out of our crappy fridge.  I ran back up the stair before he could ask me to do anymore ridiculous things.  I plopped on my bed and turned my IPod on and listened to Lady Gaga’s hit Born this Way.  Then, as if I could get time to myself, my little sister Stephanie barged in without knocking. 

“Where is my freakin’ phone you horse” she practically screamed

“ I don’t know maybe you lost it again , I never use your phone I have my own”

“All I know is that if I don’t get my phone in 3 seconds I will tell dad and we both know you don’t want that” She was right, I never liked it when dad got mad at us (mostly me). He beats me with anything he can get his hands on, usually.  I hate that, he never used to beat me, ever.

“Okay fine I will help you find it you, donkey,” We looked in her drawers, under her bed, everywhere and still we couldn’t find it. Then Steph screams, “I found it!”

“Where was it?”

“In my purse,” She said with a sly smile. It made me sick.

“You son- of-“

“Don’t make me get dad,” she knows just how to push my buttons. She opened her mouth to scream “Dad” but I covered her mouth and said, “Fine just leave me alone,” I went back in my room wishing that I could go back to school to see my friends. They were my real family.  I put my earphones back in my ear, put my IPod on shuffle and drifted into a deep slumber.

Author's Note

Anything I could fix?