waiting

Mom is tired. I bet she’s going to bed soon, and then I’ll have my chance.
School took forever, and I think I was really bitchy to my friends. I told them my parents were fighting. At least I know one thing about myself: I’m a liar.
But really, what would I say? “There’s parts of two days that I don’t remember, but at the end of one I had blood all over my hands and at the end of the other it looks like I was masturbating on top of a bookshelf. So I’m a little on edge.”
I just heard Mom’s door close. Now’s my chance.