Hey! This is my first ever story, I hope you like it! :D
DISCLAIMER- I only own the plot, but Max is all JP. That is all. :)
I sighed. It was freezing outside, and I only had on a flimsy sweater, the only thing my mom could afford to buy. It was doing a pretty bad job of protecting me from the sharp, cold wind. I was angrily walking home from the store, after getting something mom forced me to do, probably just to get me out of the , like I cared. I didn't want to be in that dump she called a dad was supposedly out job hunting, after he was fired from his last for excessive drinking, but he promised he'd stop and take life seriously. Do I really expect him to keep his promise?
No, but it would be nice for once. Maybe, just maybe he will take his life seriously, our life seriously.
As if.
I stepped on the cracked cement sidewalk, looking down, stuck in a daze. My life was pretty miserable. My mom and dad didn't want me, and they were sick of me. I was a lonely child, anoutcast, just an accident, after a night of a little too much to drink between two teenagers who thought they were in love. My dad decided to marry my mom, just because he thought itwas the honorable thing to do, but they fought every night, and they were obviously not in love or happy at all. I looked up to the night sky, longing for a perfect life. My parents could at least try to do what's best for me! I angrily stomped, surprised to see tears cooling my hot face. I looked around, hoping there was no one to witness me crying.
Pshh, as if I had any friends who would care.
I twisted my head, from left to right, but then something caught my eye inside of a bar window. Dad. Gambling, smoking, drinking, lying, everything he had promised to stop. My mouth hung dry, my eyes blinking, trying to wash away the disbelief. Maybe with each blink, he would be gone. But I could not change reality. And apparently, I could not change him.
I ran.
With each step, the tears grew fiercer. I ran for the next mile, not stopping until I got to the steps of our apartment. I just wanted the comfort of my bed, the privacy of the small room in our crowded apartment. I stood before the door, sobbing. With each intake of a shuddering breath, I felt the hatred burning inside of me. How could he do this? Didn't he care that he had a family to take care of? A job to keep? Didn't he care about...me?
I wiped my face with my stretched out sweater sleeve and put the key in the door, not wanting to face my mother, and I was extremely conflicted between telling her the truth and breaking her heart, or pretend like nothing happened and confront Dad later on. My fingers trembled with grief as I tried to compose myself, but as I turned the key, I realized the door was unlocked. "What?" I said aloud, completely confused. Mom always locked the door. I stood there for another moment, and then realized that someone could be in there, hurting my mom. I tentatively pushed the door open.
"Mom?"
No answer.
I shouted again, "Mom! MOM!" as I pushed open the door, but nobody was there.
I ran into my parent's bedroom, but all of mom's stuff was gone. There was a note on the bed, and I picked it up, my hand shaking, and read aloud:
I couldn't take it anymore.
-Mom