The car door slammed shut, the sound erupt and final. The end of the day had been looming over my head ever since I'd left the principal's office and now that it was finally here, I didn't know what to expect.
I couldn't help but wonder, have either of my parents looked at their emails yet? If one of them had... I could only hope that it was Mom. Of course, she would be angry at me for making her life more difficult, but she would get over it eventually. Dad on the other hand... he's not one to forgive so easily. I remembered a time when I was only six and had accidentally knocked over his drink. I went to bed hungry for a week and Mom did absolutely nothing to help. For what felt like the millionth time, I wondered why they didn't just get a divorce; it's not like they were worried about me or anything.
"Abby." The word came from my left. It was stern and...disappointed. It almost made me want to laugh. What right did she have to be disappointed in me? "I got an email from your school earlier and I want you to know that sleeping in class is not acceptable. It's very rude and can shine a bad light on your father and me. We do have a reputation to uphold, you know." That was the first I'd heard of it.
"And Abby," I looked over, "I told your father as well." Even as I felt myself grow pale, a spark of anger ignited in my heart. It started to smoke through all of my rage and resentment I held for my parents all these years. It started to burn, but that little spark didn't catch fire, it was too exhausting.
After that, we rode home in silence, the radio the only sound in the car. All of the songs made me sick. How could there be people happy enough, loved enough, to sing songs like those? Did people like that really exist, or were they just pretending like the rest of us? Thoughts swirled around in my head, my brain not focused enough to stop them. Thoughts of Dad, Mom, and school. Thoughts of pain, sadness, and loss. Thoughts of Jake.
My vision became blurry the more I thought of all of those things. At least, I told myself it was all of them. That it wasn't only the chestnut-haired boy with eyes the color of dreams and a voice even pop stars would envy. Because I was over him, I didn't cry for him anymore. I could live without him, without the boy that I gave my heart to. Who needed a heart anyway.
When we pulled into the driveway of our one-story house of misery, I reached up and discreetly wiped at my eyes. There was no need for my parents to know I was human. That would ruin their whole perception of me and I wouldn't want to be an inconvenience. Sometimes their level of inhumanity scared me. But I wasn't scared of them per say. I was scared that I would become them. That I too would treat those around me with disdain and aloofness.
I opened my door and stepped out of the car, breathing in the crisp autumn air as I did so. The world was so vibrant this time of year; in my opinion, it was even more so than spring. Sure, in spring there were flowers and green leaves and all of that, but it didn't have trees bursting in shades of orange, red, and yellow. It didn't have colors so beautiful that you never wanted to look away. That's how I used to be around him. I never wanted to look away, I wanted to laugh and play and live with him forever. But then came winter.
"Don't just stand there, you'll catch a cold." With a start I found myself standing in the doorway of my house and Mom staring at me like I was crazy. Shaking my head to clear it, I stepped inside and closed the door behind me with a soft click. I looked around and was surprised to find everything relatively clean. There were no plates littered on the floor, no clothes scattered about, and no pizza boxes stacked up. And though that made me happy, it still didn't quite make up for the fact that the beer cans were everywhere.
I would rather see all of the normal filth and no beer cans than see nothing except a singular can. Because no matter how clean this house looked, it wouldn't make up for the fact that Dad was probably lying somewhere in a pool of numbness. My thoughts started to tread down a dangerous territory. Thoughts of confronting the man responsible for my and Mom's misery. That was ultimately my downfall, my one true mistake: because I started to get mad.
I dropped my backpack on the worn-down leather sofa to the right of the entryway and stalked towards the kitchen. I opened a drawer and pulled out a white trash bag. Barely thinking, I went about the house and started picking up can after can after can.
Slowly, the trash bag filled up until it was full to bursting. When was the last time someone picked these up? Certainly, it had to have been more than a month, there was no way that anyone, not even my Dad, could drink this many in such an amount of time.
Suddenly feeling anxious, I set the bag down by the front door before heading back to the kitchen to get another one. I started the process over and soon the house looked less like a bar and more like home. I snickered at the thought but no joy came from it. Where would the joy even come from?
"What's goin' on in here." The words were slurred and sent a shiver of fear down my spine. That voice always did. "I was just cleaning up a bit, that's all." I kept my voice passive hoping to appease the violence I could sense already brewing in the air. "Why, I already cleaned up you ungrateful little brat!" It seemed he was on a hair's trigger today; and for once, so was I.
"You mean you actually cleaned up your own mess for once? What do you want me to do, congratulate you?" I heard Mom inhale sharply a few feet away but I paid her no mind. "It's not like cleaning up, and your own mess at that, will make you a better person. It's not like anyone will actually like you." I practically snarled the words. "I mean who could when you're nothing but an abusive alcoholic who does nothing but sit on his as all day!"
His face was getting dangerously red. "I have had it with being stepped all over, with you constantly exploding over every little thing." I drew the words out, making sure they stuck in that thick skull of his. "Can't you see the harm you're causing people? Or are you too narrow-minded! I just wish--I wish I-" A sob burst past my lips, forceful and sudden. I took in a lung-full of air to calm down, though it did little. "I wish I could follow Jake!"
I should have seen it coming: the fist. But tears blinded me to the obvious. It hit hard and fast, cracking my head to the side. My knees buckled and I hit the ground with a jarring thud. Black spots danced at the edge of my vision, coming to take me away. Distantly I heard shouting, though I couldn't say who it was coming from even if my life depended on it. Perhaps it did. My thoughts muddled my head until they were no more. Blackness closed in.
I came back into consciousness an unknown amount of time later, though barely. I slowly blinked my eyes open and found the blurry face of a woman hovering over me. "Hang in there, you're going to be fine. We're almost at the hospital." Why were we going there? Was someone hurt? I tried to open my mouth to ask but I became violently dizzy and blacked out.
The next time I came to I couldn't open my eyes. Or move. I used what little focus I had left to try to figure out what was going on. I could hear feet pounding, voices talking frantically, and then a bang followed by a cool burst of air. I only noticed that I had been moving once I'd been stopped. Voices seemed to quiet before a loud voice shouted, "CLEAR!" A sharp jolt of electricity shot through my body, sending pain rushing in. "We're losing her! Again!" Losing me? But I was right here, couldn't they tell? I desperately tried to speak but before I could another shot of electricity speared through me. The pain drowned out all my senses, too intense to bear. My last thought, right as I was sitting on the edge of the void was to just see him. One last time.
ns 15.158.61.8da2
