Apricity||Dak Prescott

19

Everyone was downstairs, chattering and being loud. What else would I expect from another game day barbecue? I sat on my bed, hugging my knees. I had uttered one sentence to my uncle today, but it wasn't anything he was expecting. If anyone asks, I'm sick, I told him. Before he could reply, I rushed up the stairs and have been in my room since.

Today was the second round of playoffs, and as much as it killed me to watch Dak play; I knew I couldn't not watch the game. Not just because I'm a die hard fan, but because he needed my support. Whether he knew I was rooting for him right now or not. I didn't bother to turn the game on through my TV, instead I was streaming it through my phone on the NFL app. We were losing, by allot. Dak has been out of it the whole game, and I can't help but blame myself.

Why? Well, just two days ago I broke his heart. He's been second guessing himself throughout the whole game, and staying too long in the pocket. Thankfully, the defense has been stepping up. Diggs got another interception and ran it in for a touchdown. I didn't even have it in me to cheer that the game is getting close now, and we could make a comeback. I kept replaying my last encounter with both Dak and Ethan. I haven't got much sleep lately, all I can hear is the words I used to break them and the sadness in their eyes.

Suddenly my door flung open, and I looked over confusedly. "Xaila?" Elizabeth's voice boomed in my room, "Do you want to come downstairs?" Elizabeth is one of Amber and Jay's children. She's now seven years old, but has the mind and mouth of a seventeen year old. "No." I replied. "Why?" "I'm sick." I deadpanned. "You look fine to me." She harrumphed. This little girl is picking up on attitude, she almost reminds me of me in a sick way. "Liz, go away, please." I demanded through my teeth, trying to keep my composure.

"Just come downstairs with us!" She crossed her arms. "Elizabeth Marie," I clenched my fist, "Go away, seriously. I'm so not in the mood!" "Well, I want you to come downstairs. Guess we're both not getting what we want." She arched her brow, sassily. Okay, that's it! She's tested my patience enough! "Get out of my room! If I don't want to go downstairs, I don't have to! I can't stand the way you freaking talk and act! Now stay downstairs with everyone!" I snarl. Her eyes went doe, as her eyes began glossing over. I've never raised my voice to any of the kids, no matter how much they deserved to get yelled at.

Instant regret filled me, but before I could even apologize; she ran downstairs slamming my door. Fuck! I grabbed my pillow and threw it at the wall. It, in no way, gave me the same satisfaction as breaking shit. "That's the game! Buccaneers won!" Tony Romo, former Dallas Cowboys quarterback now sports announcer stated cheered. I looked down at the score, and seen that they lost by five points. Five fucking points! "Fuck!" I yelled in frustration. I rose to my feet then rummaged through my closet, until I found what I was looking for.

I devilishly smiled once I had my hands clutched around the trophy. "2018 High School Championship" it read. It was my last softball trophy I'd ever got, I stopped playing once the rumors and harassment began. My teammates treated me like a piece of shit, and I couldn't stand being on that team or at that school! My grip tightened, my knuckles began to turn white as the nightmares of that school pooled into my mind on top of everything else going on.

Both of my hands had been clutching the trophy now, and I creeped my way to my dresser. I rose the trophy over my head, then crashed it into the corner of the wooden dresser. The impact is loud, and gave me a taste of satisfaction. I continued smashing the stupid plastic, while my inflamed cheeks had trails of tears steaming against them. "Xaila, what're you doing?!" Amber's voice echoed throughout my room, "Gabe, come up here now, please!"

"Get out!" I yelled. "No, I'm not getting out!" She argued, trying to rip the trophy out of my hand. "Leave me alone!" "Xaila, stop," She then got a glimpse of my face, and her anger melted into confusion and concern, "You're—You're crying." I hate that she knows me so fucking well. She knows that I don't cry, and I can't risk her thinking I'm weak. Especially now when I'm livid. "No, I'm not!" "Xaila, what's wrong?" She asked.

"Is everything okay?" My uncle asked, as he entered my room. "Yes!" "No, it's not. Stop lying, Xaila!" "I'm not fucking lying!" I snarled. "Okay, stop and tell me what's going on." My uncle cooed. My mouth opened, but Amber was quick to shoot her finger up and silence me. "Lizzie came up to me and said that Xaila had yelled at her for no reason, so I told her that as soon as everyone started clearing out and the game was over that I'd have a talk with Xaila," Amber explained, "So I come up here and she's smashing her trophy into her dresser!"

"I didn't yell at Lizzie for 'no reason', I told her I wasn't feeling good and to leave me alone; but she didn't!" I chimed. "Xaila May, that's no reason to yell at child!" My uncle scolded. "Everything's my fucking fault, I forget! Thank you both so much for always being here to remind me!" I rolled my eyes. "Nobody said that!" My uncle retorted. "Gabriel, she was crying!" Amber chimed. My uncle's mien was consumed with the same confused concerned look that had possessed Amber just moments ago. "Xaila, what's going on?" He softly asked.

"Nothing! Can't you two just leave me the fuck alone?!" I hollered. "Lala, stop cussing!" Amber scolded. "Don't fucking scold me!" I snap. "Xaila, stop it! Stop fighting! Stop pretending you're okay! Let us in! We care about you, we love you so much!" My uncle pleaded. My heart twitched at his words. His pain was evident, his plea was clear for anyone with a beating heart to feel. Even a fucked up one like mine. But I'm not like everyone else, I don't know how to sympathize with someone over me. So, because I am beyond fucked up, I impulsively react and everyone gets the shitty end. Only it is I who breaks more and more with every rotten thing I say to those I care for most.

"Care about me? Love me? Both of you just stop! Stop acting like you give a shit about my well being, or concerned as to why I was crying!" I hollered. "Nobody's acting, Xaila." "I love you, girl. We love you. You know that." My uncle softly stated. I wanted to believe him, with all my heart I wanted to believe him. But it's hard to do that when the two people who were supposed to love me, didn't. They don't. My mom left without saying anything, I haven't heard from her in more than half of my life! My dad dropped me just to start a new family! And after everything with Lucas also, it's hard to believe anyone loves me.

"Don't! Just stop, please!" "No, we aren't going to stop until you fell us what's going on; and you believe that we love you!" Amber countered. I just need them to stop talking. I need them to get away. I'm a mixture of every horrible emotion known to mankind, and my vision is blurring. The room feels like it's growing darker, my pulse is blaring through my eardrums, and my chest is rapidly rising and falling from my unsteady breathing.

Here it comes. Another one of my out-of-control-anger-issues-episode. "I told you guys to stop! Just leave me alone, okay?! You're not my mom, you're not my dad, you guys aren't anything! Stop pretending to be my parents! You guys aren't. My. Fucking. Parents." I snarl. The look, that look is on both of their faces! Fuck! Why do they all make the same fucking face?! Amber's eyes began to water, she couldn't even muster up a single word. She simply turned on her heels, and exited.

"Xaila, I hope you didn't mean that." He cooed so quietly, it could easily be mistaken for a whisper. I don't, uncle. Not one bit. You guys are the only parents I've ever known. "Of course I do." I spat. He began shaking his head, "I don't believe it." "Well, believe it." I retorted. "So everything I've done for you means nothing? Every father-daughter dance we attended, means nothing? When you first started your period and we had to have the 'talk', that means nothing? Being there for your first heartbreak, your first love, your first day of middle and high school, being there for your graduation, every vacation, or movie night, or when you were having nightmares and needed to crawl into my bed for me to tell you everything was going to be okay... None of that means a thing to you?" By this time he was crying and I was fighting back my tears.

The things he just listed and more means everything to me! As much as I want to just fall into his arms to cry and just reassure him that he means everything to me. That I love him so fucking much and I wouldn't be here today if it weren't for him. But, I don't. I do what I know will get him to leave me alone, though it's going to hurt me allot more than it's going to hurt him. "No, it doesn't." I managed to reply, giving my best stone-cold attitude that I could possibly muster.

He just nodded his head as he took one single deep snort of the air, "I'm sorry that you feel this way." With that, he exited my room; quietly shutting my door. I fell back on my bed and started crying. All of my pain, anger, sadness, and hate was been poured out of my body through my tears. I gripped my half broken trophy once more and decided to finish the job I had started on it. Little by little, hit by hit, satisfactory finally began coursing within me.