The hearth had a partly burned log in it, though the dust around the brickwork, and on the tongs, and poker showed its disuse. Next to the hearth was a small bundle of cut logs, well over seasoned wood, probably dry enough to go up in flames over so much as a spark. The mantle held various porcelain figurines, similar to the ones his grandma kept in her lifetime, if not much older looking, and more rudimentary in their sculpture. Looming over the mantle was a large oil painting of a girl – a young woman – in a forest green dress. It looked like it could have been satin, or silk, or crushed velvet. The artist captured what must have been her likeness, but was very ambiguous with the material in the dress itself. Freddy coughed, clearing his throat. There was dust on everything, and immediately he understood that this house, like the town itself, had not seem people in a long time. Footprints on the dusty floorboards revealed to him that he was, and had been for some time, the only. It was fine with me I didn’t want to be near them either.My sister Jordan, she is not necessarily the punching and kicking type of abusive but the kind that ruins one's reputation and calls names. so basically a standard bitch like most girls nowadays. Now the real problem for me is my parents and older brother Brian. Brian he, as well as our parents, physically abuse me and on more than one occasion have broken my bones. It’s a miracle I can use my arm on account of it being broken more than three times.As I started to walk quietly by her I stubbed my toe on the couch and of course she heard me grunt in pain.“Welcome back booger breath, it’s about time you got home dad said he will deal with you in the morning now go to your cell.” she finished with a smirk that told me what dad would do.“I already planned on it.” I said under my breath a bit too loud.“WHAT did you say tick tack, I am not going to put up with you back talking me.” said Jordan as she jumped up from her seat.It was.
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