As I walk, I wonder when the screams will stop. I've heard them every
night since he left me. The internal torture I was putting myself through
was nearly unbearable. Everyone believed I was old enough and mature enough
to deal with it. I remind myself that I am, but that doesn't stop the pain.
My pace quickens in the approaching darkness, as if I am in some kind of
hurry to get home, but I'm really trying to prolong it. The stars lit up
the sky with pinpricks of silver amongst an azure backdrop, mostly
illuminated by the glowing ivory orb that graces the sky tonight. I find
myself once again enchanted with the moon, but then again, I've always been
that way. I see myself as the symbolic lone wolf separated from her pack,
longing for a place to stray yet so content with her solitude.
The town I live in is small and non-commercial, more rural than urban, but it has its charm. I was making my way home, or to the house that contained my current guardian. My only true guardian houses himself in those stars, or so I believe. The houses are close together, unlike most rural areas, but there is less hustle here. The street I walk next to is softly glowing an orange color, highlighted by the few street lights beside it. The sidewalk is empty, but a car passes by on the street every few seconds or so. Walking gives me a lot of time to think, but less time to make my so-called curfew, which begins as soon as the sun sets in the sky. It already has, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm fifteen years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, despite what my mother believes. After a while, I turn onto a small street with a curve that heads downward the way I'm going, giving me the momentum to run. I jog a little, but don't exhaust myself too much. I make another turn onto my street and see my house, which is medium-sized and painted cherry red.
As soon as I enter the house through the side door, my mother immediately finds time to interrogate me in the middle of cooking a meal for Melissa, my half sister, who sits on the marble counters of our kitchen. The tile was a dull shade of yellow, and the walls were off-white from so many years of being tainted by the smoke originating from the tips of my step-father's cigarettes. Mom is dressed in her scrubs, being an LPN. She never finds the time to change when she gets home from work, I think to myself. Her curled and dyed blonde hair was pinned back at the sides, her bangs curled to her forehead. Her skin is slightly rough and red from tanning, but a dusting of freckles is still visible on her cheeks. Her hazel eyes look at me with question. "Well? Where were you, Keirri?"
The mention of my full name brings a small scowl to my lips, but I know she and Elmer, my step-dad, won't call me Kei. "I was at the library, where I was supposed to be." She looks at the black-faced clock with gold numbers and trimmings, and then at the watch on her wrist, as if she doesn't believe what time it is.
"It's 9:00. It's starting to get dark. You know you're supposed to be home before it gets dark." Her eyes stay glued to me, and I withhold the desire to roll my eyes into the back of my head. I've heard this lecture over and over again, but I dare not mention any disrespect to my mother. I know the full potential of her iron fist, though it only seemed to be made of iron when it came to me and my so-called incompetence. Even though I'm responsible, she refuses to let me grow up. It's because of my brother, David, I think, but my lips stay sealed.
"I know, Mom. I was just looking for a book and it took me a little longer than expected. I don't know why I have this idiotic curfew anyways." Her lips part, looking as if someone had just reached up and slapped her in the face, but I quickly add on before she can verbally assault me. "It's just that everyone else gets to stay out until at least eleven, and if I'm not home by 8:30, you're usually waiting by the door to hand me some backward punishment." I instinctively bite my lower lip out of anxiety, but to also keep myself from struggling to talk right now.
"Keirri Suzanne Saucedo...Don't speak to me in that tone." Her voice was full of warning, and I nervously run a hand through my hair. "That curfew is so that you don't get pulled into a dark alley and raped somewhere. Unless you want the emotional trauma and the pregnancy, I suggest you stick to it. My punishments are not backward, you just like to do backward things. Need I remind you how much time you spent on the computer last summer? Why can't you be like other girls and go to parties to have a good time, like I did when I was in high school?"
"And get pregnant when I'm sixteen years old? No thanks." I glare at her and she glares back. If looks were fire, I'd be burnt to a crisp by now. "Not to criticize, but I'm not obsessed with stupid things like egotistical men and air-headed girlfriends. I don't care about being popular, and I know who my real friends and family are." I dare her to speak about family in rebellion, but she keeps her lips sealed, so much that white specks appear at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, yeah," I continue, speaking in a Valley Girl voice, "let's go to a party and get drunk and high and have sex with anyone and everyone." My normal tone returns to me. "Mom, I told you, I hate drugs and alcohol, and you should too, especially after what Elmer's done."
As if I spoke a comment similar to blasphemy if not worse, Mom slams down the spoon she was using to stir Melissa's food, her knuckles turning white from gripping it too hard. Melissa's blue eyes widen and look from me to Mom, as if the six-year-old could sense the danger brewing between us. The steel in my spine decides to make itself known as I straighten up to my full, unimpressive height of 5'9", a full inch taller than Mom. "Don't ever speak to me about Elmer like that...You know how much he's done to support this family."
"Support, or fund, Mom? I heard all the time about your greedy, conniving ways, and I don't intend to cast them aside seeing as you prove your past is true to me every day." I continue, now gaining the ground I need to approach the sensitive subject. "I'm not a part of this family. My family consists of a druggie and a corpse." Her face blanched and my eyes were moist with tears, although I don't let them fall just yet.
"You talk about Elmer being bad...Look at your brother, the druggie. He's done worse to this family than Elmer ever could." She gives a self- satisfied smirk, but I see right through it. She thinks she's gained ground, but she's pushing my envelope further.
"At least he listens and talks to me about things a brother should. And he's concerned about my well-being. It's sad that he's disintegrating his brain with drugs every day and yet he remains more intelligent than you." I'm vehement by now. "You just remain a bystander while Elmer continues to pull the wool over your eyes, blinding you from the truth, and you'd just as soon cast your children aside for him as you would give an arm and a leg for him. He has you deceived, Mom, and I've been trying to get you to see that ever since you two got married."
"Stop!" She suddenly cries, throwing her hands in her face in a last- ditch effort to get me off the subject. Knowing she can't take anymore, I turn my back and go to my room, knowing that she wants me there anyways. My temper doesn't stop flaring after being ignited by her, but I know that all I'll be able to do right now is push my emotions deep inside my stomach, causing me to visibly wince. She'll never see it, I say to myself, but I still have to try. That's all I've been doing for the past six years.
The town I live in is small and non-commercial, more rural than urban, but it has its charm. I was making my way home, or to the house that contained my current guardian. My only true guardian houses himself in those stars, or so I believe. The houses are close together, unlike most rural areas, but there is less hustle here. The street I walk next to is softly glowing an orange color, highlighted by the few street lights beside it. The sidewalk is empty, but a car passes by on the street every few seconds or so. Walking gives me a lot of time to think, but less time to make my so-called curfew, which begins as soon as the sun sets in the sky. It already has, but I'm not too worried about it. I'm fifteen years old and perfectly capable of taking care of myself, despite what my mother believes. After a while, I turn onto a small street with a curve that heads downward the way I'm going, giving me the momentum to run. I jog a little, but don't exhaust myself too much. I make another turn onto my street and see my house, which is medium-sized and painted cherry red.
As soon as I enter the house through the side door, my mother immediately finds time to interrogate me in the middle of cooking a meal for Melissa, my half sister, who sits on the marble counters of our kitchen. The tile was a dull shade of yellow, and the walls were off-white from so many years of being tainted by the smoke originating from the tips of my step-father's cigarettes. Mom is dressed in her scrubs, being an LPN. She never finds the time to change when she gets home from work, I think to myself. Her curled and dyed blonde hair was pinned back at the sides, her bangs curled to her forehead. Her skin is slightly rough and red from tanning, but a dusting of freckles is still visible on her cheeks. Her hazel eyes look at me with question. "Well? Where were you, Keirri?"
The mention of my full name brings a small scowl to my lips, but I know she and Elmer, my step-dad, won't call me Kei. "I was at the library, where I was supposed to be." She looks at the black-faced clock with gold numbers and trimmings, and then at the watch on her wrist, as if she doesn't believe what time it is.
"It's 9:00. It's starting to get dark. You know you're supposed to be home before it gets dark." Her eyes stay glued to me, and I withhold the desire to roll my eyes into the back of my head. I've heard this lecture over and over again, but I dare not mention any disrespect to my mother. I know the full potential of her iron fist, though it only seemed to be made of iron when it came to me and my so-called incompetence. Even though I'm responsible, she refuses to let me grow up. It's because of my brother, David, I think, but my lips stay sealed.
"I know, Mom. I was just looking for a book and it took me a little longer than expected. I don't know why I have this idiotic curfew anyways." Her lips part, looking as if someone had just reached up and slapped her in the face, but I quickly add on before she can verbally assault me. "It's just that everyone else gets to stay out until at least eleven, and if I'm not home by 8:30, you're usually waiting by the door to hand me some backward punishment." I instinctively bite my lower lip out of anxiety, but to also keep myself from struggling to talk right now.
"Keirri Suzanne Saucedo...Don't speak to me in that tone." Her voice was full of warning, and I nervously run a hand through my hair. "That curfew is so that you don't get pulled into a dark alley and raped somewhere. Unless you want the emotional trauma and the pregnancy, I suggest you stick to it. My punishments are not backward, you just like to do backward things. Need I remind you how much time you spent on the computer last summer? Why can't you be like other girls and go to parties to have a good time, like I did when I was in high school?"
"And get pregnant when I'm sixteen years old? No thanks." I glare at her and she glares back. If looks were fire, I'd be burnt to a crisp by now. "Not to criticize, but I'm not obsessed with stupid things like egotistical men and air-headed girlfriends. I don't care about being popular, and I know who my real friends and family are." I dare her to speak about family in rebellion, but she keeps her lips sealed, so much that white specks appear at the corners of her mouth. "Oh, yeah," I continue, speaking in a Valley Girl voice, "let's go to a party and get drunk and high and have sex with anyone and everyone." My normal tone returns to me. "Mom, I told you, I hate drugs and alcohol, and you should too, especially after what Elmer's done."
As if I spoke a comment similar to blasphemy if not worse, Mom slams down the spoon she was using to stir Melissa's food, her knuckles turning white from gripping it too hard. Melissa's blue eyes widen and look from me to Mom, as if the six-year-old could sense the danger brewing between us. The steel in my spine decides to make itself known as I straighten up to my full, unimpressive height of 5'9", a full inch taller than Mom. "Don't ever speak to me about Elmer like that...You know how much he's done to support this family."
"Support, or fund, Mom? I heard all the time about your greedy, conniving ways, and I don't intend to cast them aside seeing as you prove your past is true to me every day." I continue, now gaining the ground I need to approach the sensitive subject. "I'm not a part of this family. My family consists of a druggie and a corpse." Her face blanched and my eyes were moist with tears, although I don't let them fall just yet.
"You talk about Elmer being bad...Look at your brother, the druggie. He's done worse to this family than Elmer ever could." She gives a self- satisfied smirk, but I see right through it. She thinks she's gained ground, but she's pushing my envelope further.
"At least he listens and talks to me about things a brother should. And he's concerned about my well-being. It's sad that he's disintegrating his brain with drugs every day and yet he remains more intelligent than you." I'm vehement by now. "You just remain a bystander while Elmer continues to pull the wool over your eyes, blinding you from the truth, and you'd just as soon cast your children aside for him as you would give an arm and a leg for him. He has you deceived, Mom, and I've been trying to get you to see that ever since you two got married."
"Stop!" She suddenly cries, throwing her hands in her face in a last- ditch effort to get me off the subject. Knowing she can't take anymore, I turn my back and go to my room, knowing that she wants me there anyways. My temper doesn't stop flaring after being ignited by her, but I know that all I'll be able to do right now is push my emotions deep inside my stomach, causing me to visibly wince. She'll never see it, I say to myself, but I still have to try. That's all I've been doing for the past six years.