When Alli and I reached my house, we said our goodbyes and parted ways. I walked up the walkway leading to my door. I placed my hand on the door knob and hoped it was locked, but when I turned the knob, the door opened. Just my luck.
I walked inside finding my parents sitting at the table. My dad was reading the newspaper and my mom was looking through a magazine.
"I'm home." I mumbled softly, hoping they didn't hear me.
"Welcome home sweetie." My mom said sweetly.
I walked up the stairs hoping to get away without them saying anything.
"Put your things away then come back down here we need to finish our discussion from last night." my dad stated; his voice stopped me dead in my tracks.
I walked into my room, put my backpack by my door along with my purse, and put my painting on a shelf in my closet, then went downstairs.
I sat at the table with my parents, and waited patiently for them to start the conversation.
"Clare about last night your father and I are sorry for taking our anger out on you." I resisted the urge to burst out into laughter.
"Mom, dad you're not sorry. You do the same thing every night. If you were sorry you'd stop, but you're not going to, so I'm not accepting your apology."
"Don't talk to us like that Clare." My dad said; his voice full of anger.
I turned to face my dad and narrowed my eyes at him.
"Or what? You'll hit me, please do, I've been waiting for you to just hit me, you and mom both, all you do is talk down to me, make me feel like I'm nothing, but guess what, you're nothing! The both of you! I hate you both." I said through my teeth.
"Clare you don't mean that." My mom whispered.
"I do my mom just like you and dad hate me I hate you just the same. I can't take the verbal abuse you're putting me through. I've started cutting myself because of it! But, I don't see why I'm telling you this now because it's not like you two care. I hate this so much, I can't deal with this abuse anymore."
"Sweetie it's not abuse." I pinned my eyebrows together, wondering if what I heard was right.
"Mom it is and it hurts, I ignore you both for a majority of the time and cutting is my escape… to feel the pain you both put me through and I hate you both for it."
"Clare-" my dad said in a raised voice.
"What?" I asked back, raising my voice just the same way he did.
"Don't you dare use that tone on me-"
"Or what dad you'll ground me again? Like that ever works, I don't care if you ground me or not. I never go outside except for school. Your threats mean nothing to me anymore."
"Clare no dinner."
"We went through that already I was hospitalized for malnutrition remember? What's next taking away my TV? Laptop? Cell phone? Go ahead because I don't use them. If you take away by books I could always sing annoying songs to you until you either get annoyed enough to hit me or give up."
"Clare where do you think you could get off talking to us like that?"
"Well it's very simple dad, you and mom can't ground me because I rarely do anything besides homework outside of school and you can't keep me from going to school. Here's another little known fact: You aren't going to hit me other than smacking me upside the head, neither one of you, you're both too afraid to."
I walked upstairs after telling my parents that they looked so dumbfounded. It felt good to finally tell them off. I just wished I would've gained this confidence sooner.
"Clare keep treating us like this and we'll send you to boot camp this summer!" My dad yelled as I reached my bedroom door.
Great they'd actually send me to boot camp too, not a place I'm too fond of, but at least it would keep me away from them. I walked into my room, shut my door so I was closed off from the outside world, sat on my bed for a minute, paced my room frantically, hooked my iPod to my speakers, and blared the music.
"You're a screw up a mistake even your parents told you that, just cut yourself and be done with the pain. One little cut is all it takes, or are you going to finally kill yourself and let them win?" The little voice inside my head said.
I'm not going to kill myself and let them win. I went over to my nightstand, opened the drawer, pulled out my razor, and walked back to my bed. I sat on it, lifted my sleeve and placed the razor against my wrist. I licked my lips, and placed pressure on my arm, pulled and created a cut, deep enough so I could feel the stinging pain, and deep enough so it would bleed. I'm not killing myself for them. I might only be here for their amusement, but I'm human too, and this is my life.
I watched the blood run down my arm and into my palm. I watched my arm bleed for a few minutes before going into my bathroom and cleaning up. Once my cut had stopped bleeding, I began to do my homework. It took me a good two hours to finish my homework, since I had gotten so distracted from the pain on my arm.
"Clare dinner time!"
My mom has good timing since I've just finished my homework. I put my books away and went downstairs.
"Nice of you to finally join us." My dad said in a sarcastic amused tone.
I just glared at him.
"Clare sweetie would you like something to drink with dinner?"
Ok this is scary my parents are actually treating me like part of the family.
"Sure mom I'll take a cola." I yelled back I looked at the table and nothing was set. "Mom why did you call me for dinner if it's not ready?"
"Clare stop asking meaningless questions and just sit there."
My dad got up from his chair and walked towards the kitchen slapping me upside the head, as he walked past something I'm used to. I winced and rubbed the back of my head.
"What was that for?" I asked.
"Do I really need a reason to smack you upside the head?"
I looked to my dad as he entered the kitchen.
"Guess not." I mumbled softly.
As my dad entered the dining room and started to walk past me, he raised his hand to get something off a shelf; I flinched out of habit, and got hit upside the head yet again. I whimpered, and resisted the urge to get up and slap him, see how he would feel about it.
"That was for flinching." My dad snorted.
"Well sorry if I can't help, but flinch every time someone walks behind me and raises their hand."
My mom walked out with a few bowels of food and sat them down along with my cola.
"Mom do you need any help?" I asked.
"Sure thanks for the offer." My mom responds in a gentle voice
"Good girl making yourself useful for once." My dad said coldly, smirking.
Bringing back the verbal abuse now…
I looked around at the food and got a few things from the fridge. As I stood up I got hit upside the head again with a box. I looked over to my mom who was the only one in the kitchen besides me.
"You should've came to help sooner I wouldn't have smacked you upside the head."
I wanted to leave, I wanted to just run out the front door and scream my lungs out, but I just rubbed the back of my head and took some condiments out of the fridge. I helped finish putting dinner on the table.
We sat there as a family quietly not even saying anything the only thing I wanted to do was take my plate and run. The tension was inevitable to bare it was uncomfortable and I had no choice, but to sit there and bare it the best to my ability.
"So Clare how was school?" My mom asked.
I looked to both of my parents my dad glared at my mom.
"Why are you asking her irrelevant questions, she's only going to respond with the same
"It was fine" answer?" He said.
"This awkward silence is getting to be unbearable."
"School was ok mom thanks for asking." I said softly knowing it would annoy my dad.
"Clare I don't know why your mother chooses to send you to that place knowing you're too stupid to even pass one single class."
I move the food around on my plate and take a bite.
"Well dad, sorry to rain on your parade, but remember I'm in Advanced English and guess what I'm passing it." I stated happily proving my dad wrong.
"Well that's either because your teacher is a retard or you're cheating." I laughed.
"Dad if I were cheating I'd be expelled and if Mrs. Dawes was a retard she wouldn't be teaching."
"Well that just means she got her diploma at some drug store."
"Dad I'm not stupid." I defended myself, clenching my fists.
"Could've fooled me."
I pushed my plate of half eaten food away and ran upstairs to my room, I slammed my door, turned on my iPod, and took out my new best friend, my razor. I made cuts on my arm as the tears fell down my cheeks.
Cutting gave me a reason to cry it was my "At Home Escape" or "AHE" I used it when my emotions would get the best of me. I needed a way to cope with my life and this was it. Every cut, every scar, told a story. The one on the middle of my left forearm was from the first time my dad told me he wishes I was never born and my mom just sat there like it was nothing. I can't believe she would let him talk to me like that.
"Clare can I come in?" My mom's voice chimed at the other end of the door.
I covered my arm up as the blood trickled down, turned off my iPod, and sat back on my bed.
"S-sure mom."
She opened the door, walked in, and sat on the closest corner of my bed.
"I'm sorry about your father you know how he is."
"Mom I'm his daughter just because he had a bad day or whatever doesn't mean he can take it out on me when I get home."
"I know sweetie, but it'll eventually get better." I laughed, knowing she's just saying this to make me feel better, well to her dismay, it's not.
"Mom you said I ruined your life and dad tells me I'm a mistake how do things get better?"
"I'm sorry I don't know."
I sat down on my bed with my mom we just sat there in awkward silence for what seemed like forever.
"I put your dinner in the fridge you can finish it when you want to or don't I don't care."
That's the thing with my mom, like me there are so many sides to her. She's happy one minute, and angry the next. Dealing with both parents and not knowing what's going to happen next isn't easy.
I don't cry anymore, unless I'm cutting. I was raised to believe that crying shows weakness. The only times that it's ok to cry are at funerals, when I get physically hurt, or when someone dies. I don't even cry during sad movies anymore, my mom cried during a sad movie last month and my dad full out yelled at her saying she was weak, she wasn't strong, and if she didn't toughen up he'd leave her. I haven't seen my mom cry since and all other emotions my mom showed were fake except for her anger that was real. My mom left my room not a minute sooner than I wanted.
I changed into my pajamas, crawled back into my bed, and turned on the TV. There really wasn't anything good on mainly sad movies which don't faze me anymore so there's really no point in watching them. I ended up putting on some stupid comedy show that really didn't catch my interest. I fell asleep at about ten o'clock and waited for a new day to emerge.
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