Yellow. What will life be outside of this thing? I often hear yelling from the outside world.

Clear. I see a lot of bottles around the house, but they aren't for me mom says. The bottles are always crystal clear, like the future could be told in them.

Gold. Things often go missing in the house, like mom's shiny necklace, like mom's pretty ring, like mom's warm smile. They also seem to go missing when dad is missing too? I think he's just playing hide and seek with me.

Blue. Dad has been away for a while, hide and seek isn't much fun anymore. But mom tells me that he should be back any day! I wonder what he's up too?

Orange. Dad came back, but mom doesn't seem to happy about it? He brought home more clear bottles, he even added something new to his collection, colorful chips. I think he calls it “poker”.

Purple. The teacher called home and asked about my bruises today. I told her that dad doesn't like to lose.

Yellow. The kids asks me why I wear such colorful clothes, I say “my dad loves coloful things.” I wonder if it will make him love me again.

Grey. Mom wants to take me to grandmas for a while, but dad refuses. As I said, dad doesn't like to lose things.

Brown. Mom got fired today, her last pay check is on the kitchen table. Dad throws the table, it's like something out of WWE. Why does mom have blue and black makeup under her eyes? Maybe they're actually trying to get into WWE?

Black. Mom doesn't come out of her room much when dad is home. When she does though, she tells me: “Make sure not to step on broken glass.” I miss the old mom, she was fun back when she wore black and blue makeup.

Pink. Dad hit me today, he told me “I deserved it.” The words hit me in the face, just like how the smell of vodka hits me when he whispers in my ear “Don't tell anyone about this.”

White and Green. The color of pills my mom started taking. The same color of the dress I wore on my 9th birthday, I remember is so well because dad said “it's my favorite.”as he slipped it off of me. I remember the feel of his hands as they ran down my shoulders, like acid thrown onto flesh.

Green. The color of my puke when I tried to overdose. Green, the color of my dad's eyes. Green, the color of my birth stone.

White and Green. They put me on the same pills, they said “it will make you feel better”. I don't take them because the green, it reminds me of dad.

White. The color of the hospital walls, the color of angels that I wish I would've seen that night. White, the color of the hospital papers, that we can't afford. White, the color of bills piled up in the kitchen by the liquor bottles.

Red, the color of my dad's blood. Red, the color of the stop sign dad ran that night. Red, the color of my eyes after crying at the hospital. Red, the color I will remember forever.

Black. The color I see when I finally closed my eyes. Black, the color of the pen. Everything is now black.