I lay there. In the dark. Curled up. I hugged my knees to my chest, rocked slightly, and exhaled slowly. My hair fell around me. My own kind of protection, like a fiery shield. I tried my hardest to focus on my breathing. In. Pause. Out. Pause. In-
“You’re so naive! He’s never going to quit. What happened to your morals!?” His booming voice became quieter. “I knew we should’ve taken you to church more, but no-your mother was the one who wanted to give you space, to ‘explore’ your ‘religiousness’ ” he sneered, disgust visible in his voice. The all too recognizable sound of my sister’s staggered breathing, as she tried to regain herself sounded from below. I could just imagine his scrunched up nose lifted in the air. Just like the self righteous-
The gnawing at my stomach dragged me out of my thoughts. I looked around at the repulsive half-eaten granola bars. Wrappers crumpled up all of with chunks taken out of them. Just like me. A whimper escaped my cracked, chewed up lips as I had thought that. In the waste basket there were rotting meals of the past days. It’s been this on/off thing for so long-it was a part of me. There’s a point when the sadness just becomes a part of you. There’s a point when it gets so familiar that everything that happens is a part of it. So when you’re not scared, when you’re not sad, it’s shocking. You don’t know how to respond anymore.
It's not like I wasn’t hungry, because I was. All. The. Time. The hunger ate at my insides, its venomous claws scratching my stomach. Like my own body was trying to eat itself. It left scars. Scars in the form of a tiny waist. Scars in the form of visible collar bones. Scars in the form of prominent cheek bones. Beautiful, ugly, scars.  The background music of familiar arguments made this movie; because these scars would not be here if it weren’t for the arguments.
And the fighting went on. And the crying went on. And the hunger went on. And I found it a lot harder to continue breathing as the time went on.
But something in me made me want to fight. Something within me made me want to show him that I was strong. That he wouldn't push me around. He wouldn't decide my life. That he couldn't.
So I got up. My back in a forced hunch, from painfully clenched abdominals. Shaking hands. Weak knees. It was slow and agonizing.
And as I walked I felt weaker and weaker, but I kept going. I needed this. And clearly no one else was gonna help me. So I had to help myself.
So when I made it to the staircase, I grasped the smooth wood banister, exhaled shakily, and did my own interpretation of a march down the stairs. With my head held high, my eyes set straight ahead of me, I walked down the last step. Something was burning, the caustic smell radiated through the house. My sister was sobbing, and he was sitting down his head collapsed into his hands. I think I faintly remember someone saying "I'm sorry, I'm sorry", but it was all a blur. The only thing in mind was was the burning, seething hunger.
They didn't even notice as I walked into the kitchen, opened the fridge, and grabbed leftovers of last nights dinner. I padded over to the microwave and heated it up. I opened up the drawer and pulled out a fork. And finally I ate. Putting the flavorless rice to my mouth, and swallowing. It had tasted horrid, and yet I still ate it. Forkful after forkful after forkful until it had completely disappeared. As I silently put my dishes away I realized something. I could do this, I could do whatever I wanted.
I proudly marched away. Head high, chest puffed, I strode up those stairs. And reaching the top of those stairs today must’ve felt like how people feel when they reach the top of a mountain. Where you’re weak and tired, and you feel like there’s not enough air to breathe, but that it was worth it. So, so worth it. I looked out the window at the beautiful winter night, the snow was dancing down to the ground. It felt so far away. The night, it felt warm compared to the atmosphere here.
I inhaled and slowly exhaled, went back to my room, and laid down on my bed. Checked my phone, responded to a few texts, and then noticed something. On part of my wall in my room there was a bunch of pictures of my friends and family hanging from two lines of twine (one for family, one for friends) The clothespin-clipped pictures all danced a little due to the heat vent being right below them, but one caught my eye. It was a picture of him, and my sister, and me. He was holding my sister's hand while giving me a piggy-back ride. We were down by the marina, it was one of our favorite places. There was a restaurant down there called The Hatch. We would go and get hotdogs and eat there while looking out at all the boats going by, then we would order ice cream and walk down on the rocks.
We had all looked so happy in that picture. No where near like it is now. It felt like a lie, that picture hanging up under ‘Family’. I got up and ripped it off. My eyes started to water, and I could feel the hiccups coming on, and I was just so mad staring at that picture.
I got up off of the bed and stalked over to my blue butterfly chair. I grabbed my purse and dug through it until I found what I was looking for.  Something needed to be done, or our lives would stay like this forever. This constant round and round of who’s right, who’s wrong, and I was quite literally sick and tired of it. Thats what I was thinking when I did it. I thought I was helping. I knew something needed to change and I had decided to be that change. Be the change you wish to see in the world.
I flipped it open and used my thumb to push the track down. “Causing enough friction to make a spark and then the fuel took it from there” I could almost hear her saying it now. And for a split second I just watched the flame dance. “Like your hair your crazy, beautiful, hair” She had said. I picked up the picture, lifted it up, and introduced it to the flame. Be the change. I stood up with the burning picture still in my hand, and let it go. It floated to the ground. Be the change. I just stood there and watched as the flames started to spread across the dry carpeting. Be the change. I just stood there and marveled at the beautiful flames. I sat on the ground, inhaled the toxic smoke, and sighed contemptuously.