"Sometimes the worst place you can be, is in your own head."
♛
If there's one thing I hate, it's pity. People will treat you horrible until they find out some tragic event about your life, and after that they treat you differently.
When people found out about my mom's death I got a crap load of pity. People who bullied me started acting nice to me and people I didn't even know tried to become my friend.
Nobody could look at me the same after that. From there on out I was "that girl who's mom died" ... little did they know I was the reason.
I tried to convince my aunts and uncles to let me stay with them, but they all thought it would be best if I stayed with my father. It's like going to stay with a stranger.
He left us, not the other way around. I swore to myself I'd never try to see him again and here I was, living with him.
This was all I could think about as I walked down stairs to greet him. How many years has it been again? Eleven . Eleven years since he left my mother and I, without an explanation might I add.
If he expects everything to be okay , like nothing ever happened then he's got another thing coming. Because I'm going to make sure he knows exactly what he got up and left eleven years ago. After he see's what he was missing out on... I'll leave. Once I turn eighteen , I'll pack up and leave without an explanation . Just like he did to us.
One might say it's a bitchy thing to do... but everyone knows Karma's a bitch.
As I neared the corner, I put on a blank and emotionless face. I can't let him get to me. My hands began to feel clammy, and were unable to stop shaking. My heart rate increased rapidly, pounding against my chest .
When I finally composed myself , I took a few steps forward , inching my way around the corner. A new but somehow familiar face , came to view. Although I hadn't seen my father in eleven years, I could tell it was him.
We were very similar look wise , I thought as I studied his face whilst approaching him. We both had the same big brown eyes and dark brown hair.
"Serena..." Was all he could say after eleven years.
I just stood there , staring daggers into his head with my eyes . I hated hearing my name come from his mouth , It's a sound I wished to never hear again.
"Yes?" I responded a little bluntly, after snapping out of my seething thoughts about him.
"Um, I'm sorry about your mother." He held his head down low while saying this, as if he missed her too. But I knew that was just bullshit.
"Yeah, me too." I said, not entirely sure what to say to this stranger of a father standing in front of me.
"Well, anyways have you met Josh?" He said, suddenly sounding cheery, as if we weren't just talking about my dead mother moments ago.
"Possibly." I replied, keeping my answers short. I thought back to this morning, Josh must be the boy who walked in my room earlier.
"Well , well , you're up for quite the surprise ." He said , chuckling to himself .
He turned around, towards what I guessed was the living room, "Josh!"
Moments later the boy I recognized from my room walked in smiling quickly at me , before directing his attention towards my father.
"Yes?" He asked, walking over to us.
"Have you met Serena?" My father gestured over at me.
"Yes, although she seemed to have no clue who I am." Josh said, in an accusing way. I couldn't help but be confused.
I let out a small cough in order to capture their attention, "I'm sorry, am I missing something here?"
"Well I'll just put it this way... Josh is your brother." My father said, sheepishly.
"Step?" I asked, more confused than I've ever been in my life.
"No, full brother." He replied, looking me straight in the eyes.
"You're saying that I have a brother ...I've never known about my whole life?" I drawled.
"That's exactly what I'm saying."
I stared at the both of them, for what seemed like hours . Josh was looking around , as if he was trying to find an escape route. My father however, continued to stare deep into my eyes. His gaze never faltered or strayed once.
"Your mom must have kept it from you." My father suggested , breaking the silence.
None of this made sense. My mom and I had a bond that was unexplainable, we told each other everything . She would never keep something like this from me .... right?
My mind was all over the place, I didn't know what to believe. I started to feel a little light headed , from the sudden possibility that my mom wasn't who I thought she was . I leaned against the wall, using it to support my weight and keep me up.
I closed my eyes , and took a couple deep breaths, managing to push everything aside long enough to head upstairs to my room.
I left Josh and my father downstairs , not even bothering to say a word to them. Surprisingly, I think they understood that I needed to be alone for a while.
Once I closed the door to my room , I ran over to my nightstand. Sitting nicely on the corner of it , was a picture frame of my mom and I. Just looking at the picture flooded me with warm memories of the day it was taken.
It was my freshman year, I had been struggling in school at the time . Not academically, but socially. I was different from most of the girls there , and to them that made me weird ...and an easy target.
I had never done anything to result in the way I was treated at school. I always kept to myself , focused on whatever book I could get my hands on. I sat alone everyday , and barely ever spoke a word.
Over time , things began to get worse. They stopped insulting me verbally all the time , and starting using fists instead of words.
That's when my mom took notice . I'd come home with bruises and bloody noses, almost everyday . She asked me constantly , who was hurting me. I never told her .
Until one day , I snapped . I couldn't take it any longer, so I told her. I told her who was hurting me.
With the new information I gave my mom , she went to the principal in hope to stop the bullying. Let's just say he was completely useless, and refused to do anything about it.
What my mom did next , might be one of my favorite memories I have of her. She punched my principal straight in the nose , so hard that blood poured right out of it.
I didn't feel bad for him at all. He refused to help , because one of the people bullying me was his daughter. When we got home , she contacted the school board and got him fired.
As a celebration , she took the rest of the day off , and we went to the beach. We had spent the whole day there, It's where the picture was taken. We were standing on the pier and holding ice cream cones , with smiles from ear to ear , while an older gentleman took our photo.
I stared at the photo, wishing I could go back to that day. I hugged it close to my body, as if I was afraid of letting go- and I was. I don't think I'll ever truly be able to let her go.
I pulled it impossibly closer to my chest before whispering, "I'm sorry mom."
And felt a lonely tear roll down my cheek.
♛