Fuming: A Short Story

662 Words3 Pages
I was fuming. I was steamed! Whatever I was, it was definitely along the lines of angry. Extremely angry. What was I supposed to do? I had to fight back! Even if she was only two years old. I mean, Molly had it coming! She slapped me when I was doing absolutely nothing! So, I kicked her back, and of course, my mother looks when Molly is getting hurt but not me. So of course, I got sent up to my room just as Molly smirked at me through her fake sobs. She’s pretty evil for a two-year-old. Minutes ticked by, but they felt like days. I tried reading. I tried singing. I tried dancing. I tried making random faces in the mirror. I even tried sleeping! But none of them worked. All I could do was stare out the window at my mother and my siblings having…show more content…
That would make me look more official, and Mom would take me seriously. Then she would know that I was actually gone, and that she would never see me again. Unless I moved to Grandma’s, that is. But, I was serious about this. I thought I was ready to move out. I snatched a random bag and started stuffing some of my favorite clothes in it, along with my hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste, and blanket. “Aww, man, it doesn’t fit!” I said to myself. So I downsized a bit, and then I put the bag on my back and tried to get out the door, but then, I remembered--it was locked! This was a big flaw in my plan! How was I supposed to move out of the house if I couldn’t go in my room? All I could do was sit near the door and twiddle my thumbs until I could get out. A few moments later, the door opened. It was my mother! I could not talk to her. She locked me in my room for a few days, for all I knew! “Mom! I was in here for an entire hour!” I accused her. “It wasn’t an hour,” my mother told me. “Then what was it? Fifty-nine minutes and fifty-nine seconds?” I was pretty good at math, even at seven years old. “It was fifteen minutes!” Mom exclaimed. “No, it
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