Chapter One: The
Path that Lies Between Us
"People talk about 'dysfunctional' families; I've never seen any
April 23rd, 2009
Today, I came home from school like usual and threw my backpack
on the ground before heading upstairs to my insanely small room.
Books, magazines, clothes, dirty dishes… My floor was barely
recognizable. My dressers were cluttered with the same camouflage
as my carpet. Still, my guitar hung on the wall next to my
spray-paint peace sign; a familiar sight. Normally, my room was
my haven where I could relax and unwind all the stress from
everything going on lately. But now, I became claustrophobic and
felt myself suffocating in my own filth. I wade through the
garbage on the ground towards the window. I struggle to pry it
open, hoping that it would be worth it. It was. Cool air rushes
in across my face and into my hot, stuffy room. I sigh contently
and deeply breathe in the clean air from outside.
I was interrupted by the sound of my dad walking in through the
garage door. A loud entrance, I might add; a sign that he's been
drinking. Great I thought I wish my sister was at a friend's
house… My dad is a raging alcoholic and he tends to yell and
taunt my little sister when he's drunk. If I left, there would be
no one to defend her. So when he's home and she's home, so am I.
When it's just me and him, I go for long walks by myself and my
guitar to escape his slurred conversations.
Apparently, it had been a long day at work for him with lots of
meetings. He was in a particularly bad mood when he sat down to
watch T.V. As you might assume, this wasn't heading in a good
direction. You're right.
My mom walks in and later she makes dinner. My dad rolls his eyes
as she tells us about her day at work. She can tell he's been
drinking. She confronts him. My sister and I sulk up to our
rooms; we know what's coming.
And now it's 2:46 AM and they're still arguing. I can't sleep so
I write. They're voices fluctuate, going from whispers to
screaming at each other. I'm astounded that my sister is
oblivious to all this; she's still sleeping.
I will not stay awake. I will not cry. I will be strong tonight.
I tell myself; because tonight is different. It's when I have
finally made my decision on how I am going to deal with this.
Inside the beaten doors of my closet, my bag of possessions lay
ready for when my parents go to bed.
Tonight is the night where I am given a second chance.
Tonight, I will run.