1. broken home

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I got called down to the office in the middle of my English class. I packed up my stuff and smiled and waved at my friends goodbye and went down to the office. I knocked and entered.

There was the principal and a police man sitting at the desk. The principal pulled out a chair and gestured for me to sit down. I nervously walked over to the chair and sat down.

"Thank you." I spoke quietly trying not to make eye contact with the police officer.

"I just want to let you know you are not in trouble-" the principal started

"Then what's up?" I interrupted her

"I've got some important information that I need to tell you in private." The police officer spoke and the principal got up and left, leaving only me and the police officer in the room.

"I'm listening." I said

"Right.. I'm Officer Parker and I just want to confirm that you are Eliza?"

"That's me."

"I want you to remain calm but.. today at 10 am the police station got a call from your father asking for help. He claimed your mother...had not woken up from her sleep and when we sent an ambulance, unfortunately they didn't find a pulse. I'm sorry for your loss.."

The police officer spoke on about things but I wasn't listening. I froze, my mind froze my body froze. Everything was frozen and I was in a deep pit of depression wanting to escape.

Three years later.

It was 10:30 I had been out by myself all night, roaming around the cold streets, dreading the thought of coming home. I would have gone out with friends but I'm alone.

As soon as I walked through the door I heard shouting. Dad had obviously been drinking  all day, as usual. He was cursing and shouting at the football game on the TV. I sighed in my head and slowly shut the door. I gingerly stepped passed the sitting room and went up the stairs into my room. I didn't want him to know I was home, especially at this time.

My dad has serious anger problems and is a raging alcoholic. After mum passed away it got worse, and everything bad that happened...he took it out on me.

His words didn't hurt but his hands did. I pleaded for him to stop but I was dead to him so It wasn't worth it.

I envy my mum. She is...gone but she's better off, at lease she's safe. Mum was my world and I was hers, she was forced into a relationship with my dad because she was threatened. He was horrible, but now he's worse and I hope to my god that he dies. I hate him.

I sat on my mattress, covered in stains looking like a reck, but I couldn't care less. I sat there staring at the broken door leading to the broken stairs to my broken dad in my broken home.

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