All Alone: Rise of a Superstar

Justin Drew Bieber has been through thick and thin.
An abusive step-father, a weak mom and a poor reputation at school isn't all Justin struggles with.
After loosing loved-ones and moving from Stratford to Atlanta, Justin seems to be coping well with the new atmosphere.
After getting a surprise phone-call, followed by meetings and arrangements, could this be the rise of a superstar?

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2. II

3/14/09, Thursday 10:23PM

I held the ice pack to my busted lip, as I approached the cracked mirror in our small bathroom. Several tears were rushing down my face as I looked at my reflection.

Horrible.

I pushed my hair out of my face to observe the purple bruise that was forming around my eye. I groaned, as I looked down at my wrists, seeing several large bruises.

More tears fell down my face as I heard the desperate pleas of my mom. I can’t help her, im weak compared to the monster that’s hurting her.

I collapse to the floor on my knees, burying my head in my hands.

This is all too much.

I throw the ice pack on the ground, watching the plastic break and the ice melting on the tiles. I sigh, and run a hand through my hair. I slowly start picking the ice-cubes up, one by one, until they’re all dissolving in the bathroom sink.

I wipe my hands on a thin, rough towel before I make my way out of the bathroom. I slowly walk past my parents’ bedroom, walking into my own.

I forgot about my broken door, until I saw in lying flat on the floor in my room. It took up half my room. I sighed, and held onto the door knob, pulling it up.

But it was putting too much strain on my wrist, so my grasp became loose and it fell to the ground again.

I sighed, in frustration and pain, before I realized the noise of the door falling, silenced the house. I shuffled to my bed, trying to make as less noise as possible, before I lay down in the bed, and pulled my rough thin blanket over my body.

Mine as well use the towel.

I rested my head on my flat dirty pillow, before I fell asleep.

 

---

 

3/15/09, Friday 6:56AM

I woke up, sitting up straight, an expressionless look on my face. Another day of hell. I swing my legs over to the side of the bed, and stand up, stretching and emitting a yawn in the process.

I crack my knuckles, before I walk towards my door-less doorway and into the hallway. More cracks were in the wall, I realized, as I approached our dirty kitchen.

I would do anything to live in a clean environment.

I look over at the window in our kitchen, and see the sun, just above the top of the fence. I sigh, and walk towards the run-down fridge, that still manages to work.

I open the loose door, which may I add, helps the food in the fridge stay warm, and pull out a carton of milk. I place it on the kitchen bench, when I notice the endless pile of cutlery and plates in the kitchen sink.

I sigh, as I reach into the cupboard bellow the sink, and pull out a bowl. I cringe as I see it hasn’t been washed properly.

That’s when I try and turn the water in the sink on, to wash the bowl, but nothing comes out of the tap. I use more force into trying to open the tap, but that soon led to a snapping noise, and the knob in my hands.

I sigh, as I place the broken knob on the kitchen bench. I walk towards one of the top cupboards, and find the cereal box. I pull in out and place it on the kitchen bench also.

I pull a clean spoon out of the kitchen drawer and place it next to the not-so-clean bowl. I open the cereal bow and pour the cereal in, and then pour in the milk.

I push the bowl a little closer to the edge, as I get the spoon and start eating. When I finished, I put the bowl and spoon with the endless pile of dishes in the sink.

I put the milk back in the fridge and the cereal back in the cupboard. Neither my step-father nor mom, seem to be up yet. I shrug absentmindedly, before walking into the bathroom.

I reach over to the hot-water tap in the shower and twist it, but no water comes out. I don’t want to do the same thing I did in the kitchen, so I twist the cold-water tap, which seems to be working fine.

After my cold shower, I shiver and reach over to the rack to grab my towel. It hasn’t been washed in ages, and I even tried to get William to wash it, but he said that it look fine.

He must be blind; there are loose threads everywhere and blood-stains from when I tried to wipe the blood from my wounds. I wrap it around my waist, and open the door, making it ajar, just enough to stick my head out.

I look left and right in the hallway, and don’t see William or mom, so I make my way to my room. That’s when I remember, once again, that I don’t have a bedroom door, which means I can’t dress in privacy.

I sigh, possibly for the hundredth time this morning, and make my way over to my drawers. The drawers are normally stuck, and when I tried to pull one open, I proved my case.

When I finally got it open, I pull out a pair boxers and slip them on, not feeling so bare anymore. I pull out a pair of my dark-washed jeans and my red-checkered button-up shirt.

When I buttoned it up, I bent down to pick up my one pair of leather sneakers, the ones my mom bought me for my birthday this year.

I tried persuading her to return them, to get a refund and use that money for something more important, but she refused.

I slip them on, over my socks and walk back towards the bathroom. I pick up my other clothes and look at my reflection in the cracked mirror.

A black eye and a busted lip, forgot about them.

I shake my head in annoyance, knowing these wounds will start another rumor, and walk back to my room, dumping the clothes on the floor.

I walk over to my drawers and look on top, seeing the black watch my grandpa got me for Christmas last year. I clasped it around my wrist and looked down at the time.

7:45AM.

Who knew I would take that long to get ready. I started walking towards the front door to discover my mom, limping to the couch in the living room.

I rush over to her and wrap my arms around her waist, supporting her.

‘Are you ok mom?’ I ask her, a worried expression on her face.

‘Yes sweetie.’ She says her voice a little hoarse.

I sit her down on the couch and gasp as I see her cheek bruised and her neck cut. What has he done? I shake my head furiously when a couple of envelopes come into view.

I walk over to them, and take them off the kitchen bench.

Over-due bills.

No wonder, there’s no hot water.

‘Mom, there’s some bills that need to be paid.’ I mumbled, dropping the envelopes on our coffee-table, in front of my mom.

‘Oh, goodness.’ She says, leaning forward and taking them in her hands.

‘You can use the money I earned from my ah, job.’ I said, making her look up.

‘No Justin, use that for something you want.’ She insists, frowning.

‘No, I got everything I want.’ I say, kissing my mom’s forehead.

She smiles at me and caresses my cheek.

‘What would I do without you Justin?’

I smile at her and tell her I’m going to go to school. She nods and I walk towards the front door, opening it and shutting it behind me.

I pick up my old skateboard from the porch, and drop it on the floor, putting my foot on it; I skate down the driveway and out of the street, towards school. I stop skating when I see the sign for the school.

Stratford Northwestern Secondary School.

Here goes nothing.

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