6

I hated Sundays.

Sundays were the day I would have to return home from wherever I was spending the night. I would walk back into the house and be greeted by the familiar smell of largeness and whatever mom was making for dinner. We lived in a home that was once my step-dad's uncle's. His name was Cliff. I loved his name.

I went straight to my room, feeling my mother's eyes on me. I walked a little quicker and found myself in a bright blue room. There was grass painted on my walls and glow in the dark stars everywhere. I felt empty, and I missed my Gaga. Without her I was alone.

The stuffed animal shelves hovered over me in an unforgivable manner, mocking that I wasn't allowed to take them down. I often stared at it, scanning the ones I wanted to sneak away. Then my eyes fell on Beanie Bunny. She was torn on the side and had lost her soft fur. She had little white and pink plaid on her ears and a matching collar. The Christmas decorations were still up, and it felt almost sickening to see the remains of such a fun holiday that was now over.