She shuffled down the alleyway, her battered Chuck Taylors kicking up dust from the cracked pavement below. Her jeans were so ripped and frayed she’d taken to wearing leggings under them to keep the grit and the grime of the city off her skin.
She supposed she ought to get rid of them but they went so perfectly with her faded black tee proclaiming “BITE ME” to the world at large. She didn’t wear her clothes for fashion but rather to make a statement.
Maybe if she dressed oddly enough and acted strangely enough, it would shock her parents out of their lethargy. Maybe an electric-blue Mohawk, 17 piercings and full-sleeve tattoos were what it would take to get them to remember they had a daughter…a daughter that needed them desperately.
Kicking the carcass of a busted old TV, she sighed with the realization she felt every bit as broken and useless as it was.
This story was written for the weekly Saturday Sunday Tales flash fiction challenge.