They screamed at each other, having yet another fight. Yelling at each other over every little thing that was eating at their hearts, if they even had hearts. Hollering about every mistake, everything that put them where they are, the way they are, and about how each moment is worst then the last. They argued about stuff they couldn't take back, everything they wished hadn't happened, the main mistake was me.
These quarrels happened on a daily basis. I've learned to avoid the fights by lying on my bed with my iPod as high as it can be to drown out the screams. If I didn't my dad might hit me, or he would just take out his anger on me by telling me how I am. He tells me how I am worthless, how no one will ever want me, and most of all he loved to tell me that there is nothing good for me in my future. He doesn't physically hurt me much… he's more of the emotional and abusive person. My father hasn't always been abusive.
I have a picture of me on m eighth birthday, mom and dad leaning down behind me smiling, and me with a grin from ear to ear as I blew out the candles. Too bad it's just a picture, a small reminder of how things used to be, how much different my life is now compared to before. The one where I was able to trust my father and a mother who I could respect. The kind of respect people need.
My moms job, well if you could consider sleeping around with anyone who has enough money to give her a good "paycheck", a job. My dad is always yelling at her for doing her "job" but she still has not stopped. She says it is just for the money and that we need it, especially with Christmas coming up in just a month. Mom claims that she will stop soon but we all know she couldn't stop, even wanted to. My mom would stoop low if she wanted something, or even if she didn't want someone else to have it. Love? She says its all pain and regret, that it doesn't exist anymore, that no matter how much you want to believe it, it will never exist especially not like they say it does in fairy tales.
She's barely ever home though so I miss her even though I don't like her, she's my mom and I love her. I go to her after my dad yells and makes me feel like nothing. My dad is an electrician. He constantly calls out all of my mistakes. Nothing ever passes without a punishment. As long as he's not yelling at my mom, I'll take it. They both yell at me a lot. Even thought I somewhat get along with my mom; she agrees I'm a mistake and behind closed doors, mom is always saying to him that she doesn't want me.
Therefore, I'm stuck in this hellhole for one more year, just until I'm 18 and can leave, when they can get me off their backs without having to swallow their pride.
My names Melinda and I'm currently a junior at my high school. Schools over in a few more days for winter break, when it's over I'll probably get a job, anything to keep me out of the house. I don't really like school, but then again who does? It's a bit difficult because most people know about my mom's idea of a job and some even come up and ask for a hook up. A while ago one of the people I had a crush on found out about my mom and, believe it or not, slept with her. He told everyone at school. It made me mad but I felt bad for her, she didn't know I liked him so I just blew it off.
Thursday started like every day in my life. Woke up to my iPod playing music, got ready, and headed out to school. As I went through the double doors wearing my black jeans, hair in a ponytail, black t-shirt and of course my converse. The day seemed to last forever mainly because I had photography, my favorite class, as the last class of the day. Everyday I spend my lunch period in the library reading, so today was not different. Finally, it was time for photography. We viewed picture from past students, the best ones were of the usual scenes with different lighting and things along those lines. I don't have any friends in any of my classes so was always paying attention and I got good grades.
I usually take the bus and today would be no different. As I walked up to my door with they keys in my hand I noticed the door wasn't lock and barely open. There wasn't usually any one home when I got in. I blew off any suspicions and told myself that my mom, who sometimes had too many drinks before she leaves the house, sometimes didn't remember to lock it.
I walked into the house and went directly to my room just like every other day. Once I stepped inside, I smelt a strange odor. It smelt like a sweat, coffee, and cigarette smoke. I threw my book bag down and started to look around the house. I passed my room at first then backed up and saw a large man sitting on my bed.