I woke up to the sound of footsteps in the hall. Andy was home. I decided to try and scare him, so I crept across my room, and made soft thumping noises on the wall between me and his bedroom. The footsteps stopped momentarily, then continued in. This time I made the the thumps into bangs, which made the footsteps halt for longer this time.

"Beth? Beth, is that you?" The worried voice of a scared Andy drifted into my ears.

Andy was not my real brother. He was Nicole's older brother, but she had moved away for University and he just worked in a bakery just down the road.

I tiptoed over to my wardrobe, and made more banging noises. I reached in and picked up my drumsticks. Yes I play drums. I clicked them together, and made a creepy laugh noise. It was more like a hiss really. Then I thumped them on the wall.

I heard Andy's door click shut, so I tiptoed out and pounded on this door. No one answered. Then I swung it open, and my brother gave the most squeally, girly scream I have ever heard.

I collapsed on the floor, in fits of laughter, rolling over and over in my tears.

"BETH!! I HATE YOU SO MUCH! WHY DID YOU DO THAT?!?!"

"Love... You... Too Mate... Your face... Is... Is... Priceless!!!" I managed to force out some distinguishable words through my laughter.

He came over and hoisted my flailing body onto its feet.

"So, Andy, how was last night?" I asked in a cheeky voice.

"It was fun. Yeah."

"Good, good. I got a text from Ali, you know. Earlier." His face went a deathly white colour.

"What did she say?" I had a feeling he didn't want to know, yet curiosity got the better of him.

This was so fun! "She said, you were, oh what where her words again? Oh yes. She said you were "Particularly good in the sack yesterday"." His face went an even more ghostly colour. He then started to blush. His face reminded me of the pyjammies I was wearing right now. White with big red spots.

The kettle whistled and hissed in the background, the toaster hummed and the grill spat and crackled. All the sounds of breakfast.

Andy was I charge of the sausages, eggs and bacon which were frying away to themselves in the grill, and I had control of the tea, coffee and toast.

Our little old kitchen was like home to me, as this is where I learnt to cook for myself. Our mum was often away, Nici was Starting Uni and Andy was always round at Ali's. So that left me here to fend for myself, and for Michael.

The thought of seeing his face again made me shudder. Him and his sister had been away in France for the past month, and would be back later today.

I had tidied and cleaned his house the other day, so everything was ready for His Lordship to return. But he still needed his lunch made, so I will head round after breakfast to cook him... What should I make him?

Lasange! He loved Lasange, as did I, so it should go down well. (Pun not intended) For desert I will make him a big tray of cupcakes.

I grated a lump of cheddar into a small bowl and set it in the centre of the table. Cheese is SOOOOOOO nice on bacon, trust me!!!

The toaster popped and I grabbed the toast and pancakes. They are super nice toasted with butter on.

Our collection of food was getting bigger and bigger; the table now supported a plate of sausages, a dish of bacon, a bowl of scrambled eggs, one of baked beans, a tray stacked with toast and pancakes, a dish of butter, a bowl of grated cheese, tomatoes and to top it off, a pot of tea and two mugs of coffee.

There is only one phrase in the history of food-phrases that accurately describe this breakfast:

"A MEAL NOT EVEN THE GODS ARE WORTHY ENOUGH FOR; A MEAL BURSTING WITH FLAVOUR AND COLOUR; A MEAL ONLY FIT FOR THE UNIVERSE HIMSELF, IF HE CAN EAT IT ALL."

We loaded our plates and started to wolf down our breakfast, enjoying every mouthful as if it would be our last.

Then my phone started to ring. I glanced over to it a saw it was Michael.

I don't want to answer it, but if I don't, he will be really mad and he will hit me harder.

Ever since that terrible night, Michael has beat me a lot. I have to put on masses of makeup to cover up the marks on my face, and nude colour tights on my legs. But arms are harder. Sometimes I just cover them in concealer, though I usually wear long sleeves.

Michael makes me wear really slutty clothes. If we didn't have to wear uniform in school, I would have got hundreds of dress code violations.

He makes me wear really skimpy skirts that nearly show my butt, and belly-tops, and horrible heals, all which have garish colours and patterns on them.

Then I have to plaster my face with makeup, put on ridiculous earrings and jewellery, paint my nails and spend ages putting my hair into "acceptable styles" for him. And it's all just to much.

I looked around my wardrobe, trying to find something "suitable" for Michael. My eyes landed on a pair of tiny black shorts and a pink floral bellie-top thingy. I slipped them on, instantly feeling exposed, like I was just in my underwear.

Then I reached in and found some brown sandal-heels. Perfect. Apparently. I hated heels. So much.

I trudged over to my dresser, and pulled out my box of makeup things. I put on some moisturiser, then started the long process of painting my face.

When I finished, I checked it over, then took my hair curlers and started to do my hair in beach waves. I then took my fringe-bit back and plaited it with the back of my hair.

Perfect. I hope.

The last step was finding a pair of big dangly earrings and some bangles.

There was no need to cover up any marks, as I had none, as Michael had been away for the past month.

That would soon change.

Taking my long coat and wrapping it round me, I picked up the heels and trudged out of my room, and shouted to Andy I was going as I left.

When going round to Michaels, I never go out the front; no one else has to see me like this. I swung over the fence, and headed up to my boyfriend's back door. Just before I unlocked it though, I took off my coat and stuffed it under a bush, hoping it wouldn't be found.

I slipped into the house, locking the door behind me. I set down the bag of food I had brought; tomato purée, mince, mushrooms, sheets of lasagne, yeah you get the picture.

When I cook, I like to put the radio on and sing along to the music. It was for this reason a little radio appeared on the windowsill of this kitchen. I flicked it on, and the first track to play was Get Free by Major Lazer. I loved that song, and sang along.

"Never got love from a government man

Heading downstream till the levee gives in

What can I do to get the money

We ain't got the money, we ain't gettin' out

Heading downstream till the levee gives in

And my dreams are wearin' thin

All I need's relief

I need, I need some sympathy

Look at me

I just can't believe

What they've done to me

We could never get free

I just wanna be, I just wanna be

Look at me

I just can't believe

What they've done to me

We could never get free

I just wanna be,

I just wanna dream

All of my life been wadin' in

Water so deep now we got to swim

Wonder will it ever end

How long, how long till we have a friend

Comin' down, feelin' like a battery hen

Waves won't break till the tide comes in

What will I do in the sunrise

What will I do without my dreams

Look at me

I just can't believe

What they've done to me

We could never get free

I just wanna be, I just wanna be

Look at me

I just can't believe

What they've done to me

We could never get free

I just wanna be

I just wanna dream

We're all together in the same boat

I know you, you know me

Baby, you know me

We're all together in the same boat

I know you, you know me

Baby, you know me

We're all together in the same boat

I know you, you know me

Baby, you know me

I just wanna dream...

Baby, you know me"

I love that song.