I don't own anyone. Why do I continue to write that? -Shrugs-

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Lindsay sat on her couch listening to one of her father's stories about why not to use drugs. Sam almost fell asleep because he had heard this one everyday since the beginning of Junior High. Lindsay never really paid attention to her father's stories. They were just something that was going on around her while she thought of things in her head. Her friends, life, and her hellhole some sick minds like to call school. She never wanted to give up on her thoughts and listen to her father's long, boring, and pointless speech but, today she just did. He was telling them about all the great people who died from drugs. She realised she made a mistake and went back to her thoughts. Her mother always pretended to listen to her father but Lindsay could tell she daydreaming that she would get some attention and love from the man she married. Lindsay always felt sorry for her mom. Never getting any love from the man you marry. He didn't act as if she was there. Just another person
living in his house that made his food, washed his clothes, and did so many other things to make living in that house possible. Nobody could have blamed him either.

He worked everyday to feed his family and keep their house. Why should he not relax after a horrible day at work? He never gave any second thought about his wife. She was just there. No question about that. He only cared about his kids. As long as they lived to take care of him when he gets old. That's all he cared about. He didn't want to be a cold hearted asshole, it just came naturally to him. His wife was there and she didn't need love or attention. Only his wants should get the love and attention his wife so well deserved.

As he finished his lecture, Lindsay's mind was still unraveling the mystery of her parents. Sam looked over at Lindsay and actually thought she was paying attention. He tapped her back.

"Great Dad, I won't ever do drugs." She stood up and walked in her room closing the door. It didn't matter if she meant it. Her father didn't look past the words to know what someone was really saying. Sam looked at his dad and rose.

"I don't want to throw away my future." He walked into the living and picked up the phone. Mr. Weir looked at his wife.

"Well Jean, I don't think we're going to have druggie school drop out children." Jean Weir broke down in tears.

"Harold, you don't understand!" She stood up and ran into her room and slammed the door. Mr. Weir looked at where his wife was sitting and finally understood the problem. He sighed.

Lindsay heard a door slam. `What the hell?' she wondered. She hadn't heard a door slam since the other day when her father and Sam started fighting again.

Sam looked over and his father. He put the phone on his shoulder.

"Hey Dad, what's with Mom?" Mr. Weir shrugged his shoulders. How could this man be so insencitive? He didn't care that his wife was crying because of him. He slowly stood when Sam went back to his phone conversation. He walked down the long hallway. He stopped in the middle to observe a picture of him and Jean on their wedding day. They both looked so happy, what went wrong over the years? Of course the birth of Lindsay, their first child, greatly brought them together. The years of parenting were slowly and painfully pulling them apart. They had separate lives. They didn't even talk about their lives to each other. They'd talk about the news or the children. They hadn't been out alone for years. He had to do something.

Mrs. Weir sat on her bed with her head in her hands crying. She wondered why she was acting like this. Harold was her husband and she loved him, right? She was a mother of two beautiful children. She didn't want to be like all those other horrible parents and get a divorce. Was it really that bad though, to get a divorce? She didn't think so. She hoped her husband didn't want a divorce either. They had two great children who never gave them any trouble. Things got worse after her mother died. It pulled them farther apart. Lindsay started hanging out with different people.

Lindsay stayed in her room listening to some Black Sabbath. She was reading a book while listening to it. Her father found this an impossible task but she did it with ease. Sam came into her room without knocking.

"Lindsay?" She turned off her music and laid her book down on the bed.

"Yeah Sam?" Sam sat on the foot of her bed with a frown on his face.

"I think Mom and Dad are fighting." Lindsay sat up a little. She was worried.

"How do you figure that?" Sam looked up at her.

"Mom started crying and ran into their room slamming the door. Don't you remember last time they fought?" Lindsay looked at Sam.

"How could I forget?" Lindsay remembered their parent's last fight. It lasted for a month. Her mother bought a new oven without talking it over with her dad. Her dad lived with his friend from work for three of those weeks. Since then, things have gotten better but not as great as they used to be.

Harold made his way to the room and knocked on the door. If she did let him come in, he didn't know what to do.

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