Romeo and Juliet: Again [h.s. au]

one

"Paris! Get me another beer," he slurred loudly, throwing the empty bottle on the floor in front of his recliner. I scoffed, rolled my eyes, and opened the fridge. I had been sitting at the table in the kitchen trying to find jobs. I needed money, and to move out of this shit hole my parents called home. I scratched the bar in my tongue on the roof of my mouth. Placing the beer on the coffee table beside my father's recliner, I turned away. I did have a couple unauthorized piercings, and my parents would kill me if I knew I got them, but I'm an adult now. I shouldn't need their permission.

After doing my belly button in eleventh grade, I started wanting more piercings. My junior and senior years were wild and under the table. As in, my parents didn't know about almost all of it. I'm surprised I managed to maintain just above average grades. In Vegas, we always managed to find a party. I don't think I ever did anything too drastic, but I was pretty damn crazy. I never really did any drugs, besides a couple times where I accidentally took too many ibuprofen. I mean, it didn't get me high, but, ironically enough, I had the worst headache. I threw up a lot and ended up sleeping it off. I was okay.

As I looked through listings in the news paper, I pushed my black hair up into a high ponytail. I was so tired of being the scapegoat around here, this was the only way to avoid being blamed for everything and constantly controlled. Honestly, I can't even have a life.

"Paris! Ya brought me ya damn mom's beer! You know I don't drink no damn Bud Light!" my father shouted. "Paris!" He screamed, impatiently. 

"There are no more left," I stated, but before I finished, he interrupted me.

"What?" 

"I said-" I groaned and marched into the living room. "I said, there are no more left. That's the last and only one." 

"God dammit," he grunted and struggled to get out of his chair twice before giving up. "Go wake ya damn motha up!" 

I sighed quietly, going up the steps. Upon reaching her room, I slowly slid through the cracked door. I shook my mother awake, her only response is a groan. 

"Mom, Dad wants you to go get more beer," I said quietly. 

"Alright, whatever, I'll be down in a minute..." she muttered, rolling over. Her black hair was teased into a knotted mess, hair huge as if it were the eighties once again. She always wore old cut-off sweaters and big hoop earrings, but her face was aged from years of smoking and drug use. It made me sad because I referenced old pictures to remember how beautiful she was before me. It made me feel even worse about being here.

Shuffling out of the room as she waved me off, I left the door open. My mother, an ex-junkie, current alcoholic, manic bipolar, forty-eight-year-old woman who missed the eighties spent her many hours drinking, chain smoking or sleeping. When she wasn't depressed for months on end, she'd go out and do reckless things, cheating on my father and doing lines until the early hours of the morning. She once got arrested for stealing a sports car, then her rich side-boyfriend bailed her out and she stopped seeing him. When she found out she couldn't go out in that part without getting recognized for Grand Theft Auto and evading her hearing, she laid in bed for months without doing hardly anything. It was almost disheartening.

She was the biggest reason I knew I needed to get out of here. If I didn't leave, I would end up like her.  When I was sixteen, I was diagnosed with the very same condition she has: Manic Bipolar. This scared me more than anything because it meant if I wasn't careful, I could easily end up like her.  I had to keep my mental health good, which was very hard to do the longer I stayed here. 

I sat back down at the table, looking at places I could work at to support myself. Within twenty minutes, my mother came down the steps with no energy. This was more than she'd done in months. 

"Come on Paris..." she mumbled, grabbing the car keys and walking out the door, ignoring my father. I felt uncomfortable driving in the car with her, but I figured she'd let me drive. I quickly gathered myself before exiting my house. 

As we got to the car, I cleared my throat. She gave me the keys before I even asked and got in the passenger seat. Laying her head against the window after she slammed the door, which made me jump, she closed her eyes. Frowning, I climbed in, started the ignition, and looked at her before backing out.

\\ AAAHH GUYS WELCOME TO MY NEW STORY. I've been figuring this out for a while and I'm really excited for it!  Please vote if you're excited. (':