Scarlett White
My eyes snap open when I hear a plate shatter on the first floor of the house. It's early in the morning, and as always, there are noises at this hour due to my mom and David's fights. My stomach churns with hunger, so I take it as a sign that I need to get out of bed.
I have a long day ahead of me. It's my last year of school, and I've decided to work hard on my grades this year since I've veered off track a bit in the past. I've been working at a coffee for a few months, which has been a distraction, but it's been helpful because I've been able to save enough money to help my mom pay for the future university I'm going to. My goal is to attend the University of Maine and study Art.
"I haven't been paid, David. I don't have any money, please understand," I hear my mom telling David.
David has been my stepfather for as long as I can remember, but he's been a nightmare for my mom and me. I don't wait for the day to come when my mom gives up, he will never change. His drug addiction is something you decide whether to recover from or not. For years, my mom has been manipulated by my stepfather to give up almost all of her salary for his addiction. She doesn't want to accept that he doesn't love her. If he truly loved her, he would accept help, but he doesn't. He loves her for his own needs, the drugs. My mom always knew about his drug addiction since she met him, but as they started dating, it got worse. He became more aggressive over the years, and I even got involved in their fights since I was little.
I step barefoot onto the floor and head towards the bathroom. I go through my skincare routine and brush my teeth. I'm wearing blue pants paired with a white tank top and my gray sweater, along with my white Converse sneakers.
I gently comb through my straight brown hair until it's all untangled. I grab my backpack and leave the room.
"You told me they were going to pay you today!" David yells, his voice echoing through the walls.
"Leave her alone, David," I intervene, my voice noticeably annoyed.
I walk over to a basket of fruits. Miraculously, there are some fruits left, as there's usually nothing to eat in this house since most of the money my mom earns goes to David. Unfortunately, sometimes my mom and I don't have enough to eat.
I've tried to make her realize how useless he is in her life, but she just doesn't pay attention to me.
As they say, love is blind.
We have the typical argument, I tell her she deserves better, and her response is that I know nothing about her relationship with David. Sometimes she forgets that I've grown up and seen everything that has happened because of David. I'm eighteen years old, finishing high school in a few months, and she tells me I know nothing about relationships. Well, her excuse is that I've never had a boyfriend. But what I want to say here is that you don't need to be deaf or blind to see the problem here. All that man has done is ruin her life, and he doesn't want to step out and accept that everything I've said over the past four years is true.
"You better keep that damn mouth shut." David rushes to speak when I defend my mother.
I bring the apple to my lips and look at him without a hint of resentment despite the threat he just threw at me. My ears are accustomed to hearing the same threat.
I decide to turn around and look at my mother. "I'm going to school," I tell her, and she nods gently. I approach her and press my lips against her cheek. She smiles slightly.
As I'm about to leave the kitchen, David's voice is not news about going out again. "Go, do something useful instead of just hanging out with that boy like the damn bitch you are."
My legs abruptly stop at his disgusting comment. I turn around and say, "Actually, you're right. I study to someday become someone and be able to get out of this psychotic place. How dare you talk about doing something useful? If all you do is live off my mother's ribs to ask her for money, you're such a useless man that the only good thing you would do is cease to exist." I spit.
My mother's eyes were wide open, knowing that what I said was not going to be taken lightly by David. My heart starts pounding as I see David slowly walking towards me, threateningly. I take it as a sign to get out of the house as quickly as possible before being caught by the damn man behind me.
The echo of my mother's voice can be heard from afar. ''Don't go near her!''
As I open the door frantically, the morning cold is present on my skin. I start running with no other option as I can still feel David's threatening footsteps behind me. I run as fast as I can to distance myself from the community we used to live in.
I pant as I stop my feet, my heart beating so fast that I can hear it in my ears. I look back and see no one behind. For the first time, David wanted to hurt me, that was clear as day. His eyes only showed the hatred he had for me, I can't believe I managed to escape before he laid a single hand on my hair.
Once my breathing returns to normal, I start walking towards school. I take out my phone from my back pocket and text Zach, letting him know that I'm on my way to school.
Zach is my best friend, that's the guy David referred to me spending time with. I've never seen him as anything more than a friend. We've known each other since we were little, it would be strange for us to be anything more than friends. He treats me like a sister. He's the only one who knows everything about my life and listens to me with his full attention. He became really special over the years and I wouldn't see him any other way.
"When I arrive at high school, I see Zach in the distance with his typical football vest. Zach became popular since his junior year, now he has a better life, fighting for a soccer scholarship. We had a class together, and it was first thing in the morning.
History.
There isn't a one day that I hate the class, History just isn't for me, interestingly enough, Zach is the complete opposite. He loves History, so it's a benefit for me, he helps me in class. The teacher has called me out multiple times because I've dozed off sometimes, it's really embarrassing since I've taken countless naps in his class.
'Hey, superstar!' Zach's voice is present, making my thoughts disappear.
The nickname Zach gave me is really meaningful, because when I was little, I had a huge obsession with drawing stars on all my elementary school assignments. I just liked drawing them.
'Hey, Zach!' I smile happily upon seeing him again.
His arm goes around my shoulder as we walk to class. Sometimes people misinterpret the way we are together, but I can't blame them. Zach is very affectionate, which confuses people.
I don't even want to talk about how damn jealous the girls get.
Since we started high school, Zach always wanted me to audition for cheerleading, but ¿who was I kidding? I won't even last ten minutes in the audition before getting disqualified, and it's not like I'm interested in being there anyway. But Zach always said it would be cool to see me as a cheerleader, but I never saw myself that way, and now that we're in our senior year, I don't regret it.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" Zach asks, his lips brushing against my ear.
I shrug and reply, "Same old, working at the coffee and then going home to draw or whatever. Why?" I ask, even though I already know the answer.
Damn, don't be so boring, tomorrow is Friday!
"Damn, don't be so boring, tomorrow is Friday!" I roll my eyes as he says the same old words.
"Zach, you know I don't like parties," I complain lightly. I don't understand why there's such an urgency for me to go to one.
"But it's better than being in that crazy house, don't you think?" he responds, knowing he was referring to my mom and David.
Well, he's not wrong.
"My mom has the night shift, and David is never home at night, especially on Fridays," I reply quietly.
Zach grumbles frustratedly, "Scar, just for one night, tomorrow a new band will be playing at the club." He tries to convince me.
"A new band...? Who exactly?" I ask.
"I've known them for a while. They're just starting out, and the guy who sings is practically my neighbor," he responds.
"Oh," I simply reply.
"Come on, relax a bit, you won't regret it," he encourages me again.
"Well, I'll think about it, Zach, but I can't make any promises," I respond briefly as we enter the history class, observing the teacher pick up his marker to start the class.
*******
Hey you, if you made it this far, have a cookie 🍪
- Bloom