"I'm so sick of you!"
Mummy and Daddy were fighting. Again. I ran up the flight of stairs, leading to my room. I heaved it open and shut it with as much force I could apply on it. I leaned on the door, sliding down to sit. I hugged my knees and wept.
I am currently 9 years old, and I'd to think I'm the best in my class. However, it seems like whatever I do or at least 'try' to do, I'm never recognized by my parents.
My mother's name is Jamaea. She married a devil. He's after the name, Jayden. In his eyes, my mother, me and my brother are seen as sinners and 'away from God'. Last night, Daddy bought up the subject to move my brother, Abraham, to a Christian Private School. My mother thinks that his current school was just fine. Daddy said if Abraham stayed in the school, he would turn out to be an inhumane tramp.
"Jamaea Wilson, I have made my decision."
"Le's see his grades on the comin' exam. If he ge's below our expectations, he gon' move. But if he don', he gon' stay." And they left, exchanging bad words.
YOU ARE READING
The Day I Curse
Short StoryIn a household of fighting, growing up wasn't easy for us. Inside or outside. I may have had a candle in my life to light up my dark world, but even that candle burns out. Writing inspired by 'The Hate U Give'- by Angie Thomas. This story displays t...
