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"Come to think 'bout it... you ain't never told me about your past... you've never mentioned a mom or a dad... siblings..? Nothing." Playing with my hair casually, body resting against mine on the couch, he brings up a subject that'd I'd wish burned to flames.

- Detroit 14 years prior -

"Oh my fucking god, shut up!" My father shouts loudly, running his hands over his face as my mother scoffs at him.

The only warmth I feel in this moment is the soft glow of the dinning room lighting above my hung head.

Picking at the nonexistent dirt under my nails, pretending to be as disinterested in the conversation as possible, I feel utter humiliation for both my parents despite the fact there's no witnesses to feel embarrassed by.

"Why are you yelling?!" Her voice raises quickly, matching the intensity of the moment. It reverberates in my eardrum, her presence sitting right next to mine.

"And you haven't been?!" He questions, voice elated with his tensed energy.

"I've been talking!" She protests, causing my father to turn over to my younger sister, presence practically nonexistent. To make it even more clear, she's pushed her seat back from the table, keeping her at an estranged distance from the rest of us.

"Has she not been yelling?"

My fucking father. He needs to rope everyone else into the madness. He always needs someone to agree with him, someone to create doubt in the opposer.

Don't get me wrong, I think my mother is equally as wrong in this scenario, but I don't even know if it's a scenario at all. As soon as someone opens their mouth and speaks honestly about anything in this household, someone else has to pick something out of it or make a bigger deal out of it.

I've reduced myself to silence, considering my family's affairs as something I watch rather than coexist with.

I'm barely involved anyways, I don't say a single thing, and my younger sister is such a fucking suck up to my father that she's practically gasoline, going to great extents to shit on my mother, setting flames to every goddamn interaction between my parents.

"Yeah, seriously mom calm down" she just grumbles out, showing a shocking amount of restraint.

"Calm down? You claim I don't take care of you yet you proceed to fuck off somewhere without telling me, not answering my calls, talking to me as if I'm dirt and saying that everything I do is wrong so you don't even want to be around me anymore! All cause I want to be there for you! You can't have a mother that does fuck all and lets you do whatever!"

Ah yes, what 'we're' originally arguing about. My sister often disappears for days on end, ceasing communication and on the odd chance she is home, though I never take notice, no one sees her. She's often in her room doing god knows what.

"You make it so hard! Why can't you just be chill? It's not all that deep!"

Ah, typical teenager response. Sure I'm fourteen and have no right to say such an elderly phrase, but my world is drastically different from hers. I spend most my hours studying, reading Wall Street Journal and following new studies and memorizing statistics, along with helping my parents with anything they want. At their beckon call.

"She doesn't have to be chill, she's your mother" suddenly, my father has switched to her side again, annoying me heavily because while I appreciate him being a pretty unbiased party, I find it hard to decipher which side he's on.

"Well she's not on Esdeath's ass twenty four seven!" She points out, making me lift my head, though I know I won't have to defend myself. I never have to.

Emotional Boys 2000 Where stories live. Discover now