The Outcast

Chapter 9: Angry At The World Around Me

Chapter Nine: Angry At The World Around Me

Tara Hendricks

Broken beer bottles and cigarette buds littered the living room floor. I cautiously stepped over the broken bits of glass as to not stab myself in the foot like the last time. He was drunk again. But that was nothing new. After eleven years of the same nonsense I had grown a costumed to his old nasty habits. But it's not like I had a choice in the matter. It was either endure it or move out, and that was out of the question. Where else could I go?

Nowhere. You have nobody. No one cares about you, a bitter voice reminded me.

After navigating the sea of broken shards and ash, I made it safely to the kitchen. It wasn't the nicest kitchen out there but at least the tiled floor was free of glass and I could walk without the constant worry of tripping over a bottle or slipping on spilled beer.

But my mind was never completely free of worry. There was always him to worry about, the bastard who claimed to be my father. He was a constant problem in my life that I wished to be rid of. But for now I was stuck with him, until my eighteenth birthday that was. Oh the sweet freedom was so near I could almost smile at the thought, something I rarely did nowadays. And I had good reason for why a smile rarely grazed my lips anymore and that was because there was hardly ever a reason to smile. Everything about my life was pretty shitty or empty, like the fridge.

I opened the grey fridge to find beer, wine, some day old cream cheese, a rotten onion and more beer. There was nothing to eat and the constant growling of my stomach seemed keen on reminding me of how hungry I was.

Ever since mom had left, the absence of food and happiness seemed to be prominent in this house. My mother had left my father because he was a cheating alcoholic, and even though I didn't blame her, I would never forgive her for abandoning me in the process. Her absence in my life had affected my father and me greatly. His drinking habit had increased immensely and he had picked up smoking along the way too. And I had become the bitter bitch with the mommy-abandoned-me complex that I hoped I would one day get over.

I grabbed a cup from the mahogany cabinets and poured myself some water from the tap. It tasted a bit metallic but I didn't give a crap.

Unfortunately I had to pass through the living room again to reach the hall where my bedroom was. My father was lying passed out on the couch with a half empty bottle in hand and it didn't go unnoticed. It was a miracle that he hadn't dropped it yet.

Rushing to my room, I grabbed my phone charger, a backpack that contained basic necessities since I didn't plan on sleeping in this dump tonight and high tailed the hell out of that room.

I almost made it out of the house without interruptions, almost.

The loud cracking sound from the glass bottle meeting the hard floor woke my father up. Oh the joy.

"Wha? Tara's that you?" he slurred in his drunken stupor. He swayed as he stood up from the couch and tried to regain his poor balance.

"Yeah?" I called back in a cold voice, my hand on the knob ready to bolt out of there.

"Com 'ere an clean this messup girl" he demanded, staggering his way to the door. Damn it, so close.

"It's your mess go clean it up yourself dad" I spat out bitterly.

"Who you think you are? Talking back to me. Be a good girl and do as you're told before I smack some sense into you!" he roared at me in outrage. But it didn't scare me since I knew it was just the alcohol talking, he had never dared to actually lay a hand on me. And I prayed that day never came.