I wrote this short story to tell an even darker tale, about one of the most traumatic experiences a child can possibly encounter. It is a damaging social phenomenon and issue, one that threatens the foundations of human society itself: family. The statistics do not lie; about 50 percent of marriages end up in divorce, or some sort of break-up. Children will always be caught in the crossfire, trapped in the battle between their parents, the two people they love most in the world. No child, no matter how old, can avoid being permanently scarred by the incident.
I hope to raise awareness about this social issue, and wish that you kind readers at least appreciate what I have done here should you dislike it. Even if you cannot be bothered to leave a review, I implore you, read it. Being caught in this sort of situation myself, it means a lot to me.
(By the way, in case you haven't noticed, Lilly has a brother whom she had mentioned once in Miley Get Your Gum. Following my sister's advice, I added him into my story halfway to completion.)
Disclaimer: I don't own Hannah Montana.
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There I hid myself. Under the thick blanket on my bed, my arms wrapped around my head, my body curled into a fetal position, and my frantic mind praying for the end of this war. I felt myself quivering from head to toe in fright, my eyes leaking hot salty tears, and beads of perspiration trickling down my forehead onto my pillow, as I lay a helpless witness to the hellish battle, taking place just downstairs.
"I won't let you have Lillian! You know nothing about raising children, woman!"
"What do you know? You can't even take care of your own family, much less your children!!"
"At least I have Lillian's best interests at heart, Heather!"
"WHAT INTERESTS?! You don't know your daughter! You hardly ever even SEE your daughter! For that matter, you don't know your son that well, either!"
"He chose to come with me! Ron picked me!"
"Lillian certainly didn't pick you! Honestly, sometimes I think she regards Robby Ray to be more like her father than you!"
"This isn't about the other people, Heather! It is about Lillian!
I brought my shaking knees closer into my chest, trying to make myself smaller. They were fighting over me again. Every time I heard my name "Lillian" being mentioned, my stomach jolted and turned to ice. They have been fighting over me for three weeks now, and every time they started, I made myself scarce. While they screamed at each other, they never pondered how I felt. I was terrified beyond my wits. Why don't they just stop it already? How long is this going to last?
"And I say Lillian stays with me! If Ron wants to go with you, you can have him; I don't want to force him to stay. But Lillian is mine!"
"How do you know she doesn't want me, Heather? I for one know that she hadn't chosen either of us yet! But I shall take her! I think I know my children more than you do!"
I heard Mom's unusually cruel high-pitched laughter, mocking Dad.
"Ha! You know nothing about your kids, you crazy deluded swine! I don't think you'll even be aware if one of them died, until three days after!"
A deafening crash rang from the kitchen, reverberating throughout the house, and rocking me to the core. I gave a quiet little scream of terror and plugged my ears with my clammy fingers, hoping to block the awful battle sounds out. Tears drenched my face as I uttered a silent but desperate prayer to God. Please, Lord, make them stop! Make them stop! I can't take it any more!
"You take that back, woman!"
"I took care of them all by myself, for your damn information! You weren't there for Ron when he graduated from Elementary School! You weren't there for Lillian when she had that broken collarbone, nor were you at any of her skateboarding tournaments! Bottom line is, YOU DON'T KNOW THEM!!"
"That's not true! I was there when they were born! I changed their diapers, and measured their height year after year, and even took you all out on fishing trips and such…"
"That is totally different! That was when you were still a loving father; a family man! That was before you turned into an alcohol-addicted, drug-abusing, womanizing…"
"HOLD YOUR TONGUE, WOMAN!!"
"…son of a bitch who didn't care about his damn family at all!"
Another crash, this time with the sounds of broken glass vases to go with it. Mom screamed at the top of her lungs, while Dad yelled incoherently. I squeezed my eyes tightly shut and bit my knuckles to keep myself screaming in agony. Lord, please make them stop! Make them stop! MAKE THEM STOP!
What would Miley and Oliver say if they saw us like this?
Why are we like this?
I thought a family was supposed to stick together.
So why are they fighting? Why is this family falling apart?
Why am I forced to hide under this blanket like a scared rabbit?
Did God plan this?
"This isn't about us, Heather! We were talking about Lillian's future!"
"Fine! Then we'll end this! You keep Ron, Lillian is mine!"
"I disagree!"
"Ron wanted to come with you the moment you asked him. That's his decision, fine by me! But I will not allow you to bully Lillian into following you! She has her rights!"
"Fine! Fine then! Let's ask her! LILLIAN! DOWNSTAIRS, NOW!!"
Dad's thunderous roar shook the very foundations of the house. I gave a loud squeal of horror, but stayed completely still. Hiding under the blanket, quaking in terror, and crying half a pint, I felt, more like ever, a rabbit waiting for the eagle to pass. Instead, the eagle waited.
"LILLIAN! GET DOWN HERE RIGHT NOW!"
God, help me! Please, help me! I can't take this any more! Jesus, save me, I beg you!
"Lillian, if you don't get downstairs this instant…"
Mom's voice, for some reason, was more terrifying than Dad's. Very hesitantly, I crawled out of my blanket and crept out of the room. My feet felt as heavy as a million tons, and every step I took towards the living room felt like a step closer to hell.
"LILLIAN!!"
I poked my head through the doorway, only to behold an utter scene of devastation. A chair lay broken against the wall, three feet from Mom. A million shards of glass were left scattered all over the floor, and amongst them, three bunches of flowers lay in the wreckage, looking discolored and forlorn. But it was Mom and Dad that really frightened me.
Mom's hair looked like a pile of hay, with strands of golden locks stuck to her sweaty brow. Her eyes were fiery and fierce, and she was breathing very heavily, as if she was just involved in a physical fight. Dad's eyes were no less scary; they looked like the Basilisk's eyes, complete with its death glare. He was drenched with sweat, his fists were clenched like iron vices, and panting like he had just ran a marathon.
I was petrified.
"Well? Lilly? You heard everything, right?" Mom growled, shifting her gaze to me. "You choose which one of us you want to follow."
"Who do you choose? Your mom or me?" Dad barked, glaring at me.
I looked at them both for a few seconds, and suddenly, a rush of emotion flooded my veins. It was something new, something I did not expect to feel.
Anger.
Why are they fighting over me as if I were some sort of prize to be won? Why do they sound like they expect me to love one of them more than the other? Are they so determined to hate and hurt each other that they use me as the rope in their tug-of-war? Do they really care about how I feel?
I don't think either of them noticed my puffy red eyes. The result of a whole night's crying. Because of fear, worry, and grief.
Grief because our family has dissolved into this sorry state.
If they don't care about how I feel at all, why should I choose either of them?
The words came out of my mouth before I could stop them. The words that I had kept within me for so long.
"STOP IT! DON'T YOU GUYS KNOW YOU'RE SCARING ME?!"
A dreadful silence settled upon the room as Mom and Dad froze, staring at me disbelievingly. My eyes welled up once more, and my lower lip began to quiver. I knew I was going to start crying again. But what did they care? All they want is me! If that is so, then I don't want them!
Without hesitation, I whirled around and darted out of the door, before I could burst into tears in front of them. As I wrenched the door open and threw myself into the cold winds and darkness of night, I heard Mom's voice, now remorseful, calling desperately from twenty feet away.
"Lilly, wait…"
I didn't look back. I didn't have any where to run to. All I wanted to do right now was to get out of that house, away from my so-called "parents", away from those dreadful last four weeks of war, during which endless slews of court battles turned all of us into emotional wrecks.
I just ran. Blinded by tears, I knew no direction. I ran until I could run no more. As soon as I ran out of breath, I collapsed against a lamp post and broke down into tears.
What happened to "home sweet home"? What ever happened to "A happy family sticks together" and "Team Truscott"? Why was my home and life replaced by living hell? Why did my parents turn into psychopaths? Why did this happen to us? Was this God's doing? Was this supposed to be some sort of test, so that I could get stronger?
Or did God just abandon us?
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If you're reading this, you are done with this chapter. Thanks for sticking with me for so long. It would mean a great deal to me if you expressed your opinion about it, too. I hope that this story helps raise awareness about divorce and the conflict it brings.
Terrorking Tragedian