if i had something important to say i would say it. but i dont, so i am going to make up a story
And there she lay. Unable to move her body, Revalution lay at the foot of the stairs, too tired to cry. To tired to do anything but wait. Wait for someone to come save her, wait for someone to come up to her and tell her that they cared. Cared more then her father and mother ever did. Care enough to help her off of the dirty rug she lay on, and into their arms.

“It hadn’t always been like this”, she thought to herself. Revalution remembered a time in her life where both her mother and her father were there, helping her eat broken cheerios. Helping her count them, and helping her learn valuable skills in life. But those happy times did not last forever. As much as Revalution wanted to believe that the happy times in life were still there, they had all blown away, along with broken promises and dried up tears.

Her mother and father met on a bus, as she had heard many times before. They were both lost and confused, searching for the love of their life and being clearly unsuccessful. She thought that they still were. Unsuccessful. What has Revalution’s mother become? A loner who walked the streets at night, hoping for a little extra money to feed her grows family. What had her father become? A druggie that has no relations to them now? For all Revalution knew, he could be a multi-millionaire that got rich by winning the lottery. Most likely not, though. If that was so, then by this time he would have come and whisked Bart and Revalution away to his estate, and they would be living happily ever after.

Reva had one brother and one sister. Her sister had run away, though, too tired to face all accusations that her family faced. Her sister, Sandflower, had two children, twin boys. They were 4 now, and when Sandflower had them, she was 15. That means Sandflower would be 19 by now, an adult. But Revalution didn’t want to think about her sister. To much pain. Not enough hope. For now, Revalution did not want to think about anything except the present day. How she would feed Her 10 year old brother, Cody, and Duston. The twins. Reva could not be their mother, she knew, but she could be their provider. She had no choice.

Bart, on the other hand, had not run away. He was still very much with Revalution and the twins, always trying to find a way to get some quick cash, for dinner, or for himself. Bart was 10 years old, with very black hair, brown eyes, and a smile that would come unexpectedly, then fade away just as quick. He was always a quiet one, never talking to anyone except his family. When Reva thought about it, though, she realized it wasn’t that he wouldn’t talk to anyone else, just no one would talk to him. Or her. They were very much alone, very often.

Then again, being alone was a lot better then being surrounded by people you despise, calling your family poor white trash. Calling your mom a druggie and your dad a loser. Well, more like her dad. Bart’s dad must have been someone else, she thought, because he looked almost nothing like Revalution. She had light, mousy brown hair, with pale skin and green eyes. She suspected Bart’s father must have been Spanish or Italian, from the way his skin was always many shades darker then her’s even in the wintertime. Of course, Reva never said anything about that to Bart. As far as he was concerned, his dad might as well be on another planet. Bart always shrugged the rude comments off, and moved on with his life. Revalution could not do that. Every night before she went to sleep, she could not help but wonder if what the other kids said was true. Was her mom really a druggie? A hooker? Was her father really a loser? The more and more she thought about it; the more and more it seemed to be true.

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