The Difference Between You & Me

Shipped Away

Six Months Ago

"Iris, what the hell was that," my father's voice echoed through this godforsaken home as my heels clattered against the marble floor, and he slammed the door when my mother walked through, just as pissed.

Oh well, so was I.

I rolled my eyes and turned around sharply to face my father, who currently had a vein popping out of his neck. "What the hell was what," I screamed just as loud, knowing what I did and why that pissed them off.

"Talking as if you have no home training or common sense," my mother scolded, her voice not as loud as my father's but just as stern.

"Well if speaking about the things I care about means I have no home training or common sense, then I'm a fucking animal!"

My father stepped forward and pointed a finger at me.

"You better watch your language young lady," he warned.

I resisted the urge to tell him to bite me.

"I don't understand you sometimes Iris," my mother stated, voice firm and a slight edge to it. "We give you everything you need and all we ask is one thing in return."

I looked at them in disbelief. "Give me everything I need? You two treat me as if I was your doll or puppet for you to dress up and control!"

My parents scoffed as if they couldn't believe my words. I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh really," I said with mock suprise and started pacing back and forth in anger. " 'Iris do this' 'Iris talk about this' 'Iris walk like this' 'Iris wear this' 'Iris don't wear your hair like that, they won't approve' 'Iris don't do that, you'll ruin your reputation.'"

I stopped pacing and faced them, even more angry from reliving those memories. "Everything I do, say, and wear is has been recited and rehearsed." I waved a hand at the both of them. "By you two." I moved both hands to point at myself. "I decide absolutely nothing!"

"And maybe that's a good thing," my father shouted. "Because obviously if things were left up to you you'll be babbling nonsense!"

I shot daggers at my father, and before I could say anything else my mother's phone ranged.
She lifted a finger as if to say wait and she answered the call.
Not long afterwards she called my father over and they talked in hushed voices before turning to me.

"We have to go," my mother stated. "There's business to take care of so let's just sleep on it, and see each other in the morning." My mother quirked a quick smile at the end before her and my father took off.

I, however, was fuming with rage, the words of my parents repeating in my head.

I stormed my way towards the room that held the liquor cabinet. My parent's liquor cabinet to be more precise.

There was a lock on it but I had already learned that the key was kept in the vase next to it.

I grabbed the key and opened the cabinet before picking a random bottle and popping it open.

The maids and help were called off for the night so I had no fear of being interrupted.
I chugged the drink straight from the bottle, not giving a damn as the liquid burned my throat and I squinted my eyes at the feeling halfway through.

I set the bottle down with a thump and came up with how I was going to spend my night.

I was going to get drunk.

Without a second thought I grabbed the bottle of poison again and swallowed deeply. The burning sensation no less than previously.

An hour or something later I was completely drunk.