Say I Love You, Jerk

"You know what? I can't handle this anymore. You guys are just---I don't know. You are horrible. I'm moving out." I said, interrupting my parent's continuous arguing.

No, my daily routine isn't: wake up, eat, change, go to school, sleep. It's: no sleep, partially eat, go to school and be the only audience in the house to watch my mother and father constantly scream at the top of their lungs to one another.

I ran up the black-wood stairs and into my room. I collapsed on my messy Queen-sized bed and dove my head nose-first into a pillow.

"Why me?" I asked myself, but I couldn't really hear it taking in the fact that the sound was blocked out by my parent's yelling and my sobbing.

I couldn't help but to ask that question: Why me?

Bridget Carrs: Straight A Student, Daughter of the CEO of the number one computer brand in the world; Rockaway Tec, voted Miss Teen Salt Lake City and lastly, just a normal girl.

I couldn't say I was regular because I wasn't-- having your dad being one of the richest men on this dear planet is not "regular".

Everything didn't fit the picture. Everyone would think that the CEO of Rockaway would have a happy family that would be found on the front flap of a brochure: picture perfect-- but no.

This house is like hell.

I lifted myself up from the bed and walked clumsily to my laptop desk--Rockaway, of course.

I logged on to my iGoogle and glanced at some Yo Mama jokes from that little widget.

I clicked on the search bar with my purple cursor and typed in: "Salt Lake City Apartments".

I clicked "I'm Feeling Lucky" even though I really wasn't and looked at the site curiously.

I clicked on "For Rent" then "Rent Low To High" and clicked on the cheapest thing there.

Three-hundred and fifty dollars a month.

I could have clicked on Caesars Palace if I wanted to, taking in how much money I have, but I didn't, with the paparazzi everywhere nowadays stalking my father, I had to go as low-profile as I could get.

It's not like I don't love my parents. I do. I really do.

It was 20 minutes away from where I lived, so it wasn't very far and I could visit my parents anytime they need me to, so it was a good deal.

No one makes a decision just like that. But I had to. For me, there was no choice.

I clicked on "Email This Property" and typed in all of what it asked for.

Submit? Submit. 

I bit my lip as soon as I put pressure down on the button.

As soon as the words: "Thank you for submitting this request, we'll get back to you ASAP!" showed up, my heart became a storm and I felt like regretting it all--but not thoroughly, a part of me celebrated and screamed, "Finally! Finally you did the right thing."

I jumped back in my seat as the door flung open.

I let out a small gasp and bit the inside of my lip once I saw who it was.

"You sca--" I started. Adult. "You startled me."

"Indeed I did. I need to scare you out of this. What are you thinking, Bridge?" my mother asked.

"That this house is practically like murdering myself--a slow and painful journey." I said, rolling my eyes, toying with a led pencil that was on my desk.