“Do you have to go?”
Looking up at my reflection in the mirror of the vanity in her room, my Mom sighed.
“Michael, do we have to do this every day?”
“I don’t like you working there.” I mumbled.
Giving me a sympathetic look she set to work gluing on a pair of massive fake eyelashes.
“Why can’t you have a normal job?” I demanded.
“Because I screwed up.” She snapped, “I met your Dad, dropped out of school and have been paying for it ever since.”
“So it’s my fault?”
“Did I say that Michael?”
“No, but you meant it. You dropped out because you had me.”
“I’m not gonna lie, getting pregnant with you at sixteen wasn’t ideal but I love you and if I had to go back and do it again, I wouldn’t change anything.”
Frowning, I watched as she removed a tube of bright red lipstick from her bag and smeared it over her lips.
“Why can’t Colin get off his lazy ass and get a job?” I spat.
“Michael, don’t talk about your Dad like that.” Mom sighed, looking tired as she dabbed at her mouth with a tissue, covering it in lipstick stains, each one slightly different like works of art, before dropping it in the trash.
“He’s not a Dad.” I informed her, “He’s a lazy waste of skin, rotting on our couch.”
“Michael this is his house.” Mom sighed, “Without him we’d be living on the streets.”
“I’d rather.” I grumbled.
“Mikey.” She whined turning to face me, “Let’s put a smile on the face.”
Crossing over to where I sat on the bed she drew an ear to ear smile on my face with the bright red lipstick.
“There.” She laughed when she was finished, “Much better.”
Looking up in the mirror I couldn’t stop the way my lips curved upwards into an amused smirk.
“There you go!” Mom cheered.
“I look like a freak.” I informed her, taking a tissue and wiping away the lipstick.
“Is that really so bad?” she asked.
I frowned.
“Everybody has a little bit of freak in them.” She informed me, “It’s the interesting people that let it show.”
Leaning forward she kissed me on the top of the head before pulling on her jacket.
“Watch out for Mason will you?” she asked.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“I’ll see you later.” She sighed, “Be good and don’t piss off your Dad okay?”
“I’ll try.” I answered, “Be safe at work.”
Nodding she smiled before leaving the room. Following her I sat at the top of the stairs listening as she retrieved her keys and said goodbye to Mason and the unfortunate lump on the couch that was my father before leaving, the door closing behind her with a soft click that seemed to echo through the otherwise quiet house.
Making my way downstairs, trying to ignore the glare of the television coming from the dark living room, the pungent stench of cigar smoke, and the sound of some vulgar movie playing, I entered the kitchen where Mason was sitting reading a book.
“Hey.” I mumbled.
“hi.” He replied, turning the page, “What’s on your face/”
“What do you mean?” I sighed, opening the fridge and pulling out left over pasta and placing it on the counter.
“It looks like you’re wearing like lipstick or something.” He laughed, a sound which quickly turned into a cough.
Wincing, I handed him a glass of water, before wiping my mouth off on my sleeve.
“Thanks.” He wheezed, downing it.
Watching him wearily like I half excepted him to drop dead on the spot I didn’t even realize that our Dad had entered the room until I felt a heavy hand come down on the back of my neck, weighing me down.
My stomach churning since the man reeked of body odor, alcohol and cigars, I tried to wiggle from his grasp, however chuckling, he tightened it.
“What are you two doing in here?” he asked.
“Nothing.” Mason mumbled.
Rolling his eyes, he turned to look at me, his lip curling up in disgust, “What the hell is on your face?” he demanded.
“Nothing.” I said quickly.
Glowering at me with pure loathing, he swiped his hand roughly over my mouth, revealing a red smear as he pulled away.
“Is this fucking lipstick?” he asked in a low voice.
My heart hammering in my chest I remained silent.
“Did you not hear me boy?” he demanded, pressing his chapped lips against my ear, “IS THIS OR IS THIS NOT LIPSTICK?”
Wincing, I nodded slowly.
Laughing, he released me roughly, “What are you gay?” he spat.
“No.” I whispered.
“Are you a little princess?” he laughed, “A little bitch?”
My cheeks stained red with embarrassment, I wiped my mouth on my shirt.
“Aw no, what’s the matter, Daddy’s little princess?” he cackled, “You going to cry like your sniveling pathetic slut mother?”
“She’s not a slut.” I whispered.
“What’s that?” Dad demanded.
“I said, she’s not a slut.” I replied icily.
“I beg to differ.” He laughed, crossing over to the refrigerator and removing a beer, “She was in high school when we had the accident and got you, and she is now.”
“Why don’t you shut up, you don’t do anything around here but sit on you fat ass!” I snapped.
Setting down his beer, his eyes widened, “Are you delusional?” he whispered.
I looked down.
“I do a hell of a lot for you!” he shouted, “I let you live under my roof and eat my food. I buy the clothes on your back, you go to school, you have a bed, you don’t know how could you have it. I could make your life a living hell boy.”
“I’d rather live under a bridge, then.” I spat.
“Michael.” Mason warned.
“No, no, the boy knows what he wants!” Dad laughed, “Go if you want to go, and take your pathetic excuse for a woman of a mother with you.”
“Don’t talk about her like that.” I warned.
Dad smirked, “How cute, you always were a Mommy’s girl, I mean boy. Was it her that taught you wearing makeup is a good idea?”
“Shut up.” I whispered.
“I always knew she was going to ruin you.” He continued, “Letting you play with dolls like a little girl. I knew from the moment I lay eyes on you that you were going to turn out just like here, trash.”
“Why don’t you shut up!” I shouted.
“What are you going to do, make me?” he laughed.
“Maybe!” I cried, lunging towards him, however before I could reach him, he pulled a large knife out of the drawer and brandished it infront of him.
“What’s the matter?” he asked as I stopped, “Are you scared Michael?”
Licking my lips nervously, I took a small step away from him.
“Are you scared Michael?” he repeated laughing, “Answer me are you scared?”
I backed up until I hit a wall. My heart hammering in my chest wildly I looked between my crazy eyed father to my wide eyed brother.
“ARE YOU SCARED MICHAEL?” Dad roared, “ARE YOU SCARED?”
“Yes!” I cried finally.
Laughing, hysterically, he through the knife down at my feet.
“Pathetic.” He snarled, picking up his beer and walking out of the room.
Tears of humiliation and fear filling my eyes, I picked up the knife with trembling fingertips and placed it back in the drawer.
“Are you okay?” Mason mumbled.
“Great.” I whispered, starting out of the room.
“Michael.” Mason sighed, however I ignored him, taking the stairs two at a time up to my room, closing and locking the door behind me.
Crossing over to my bed, I lay down fully clothed, staring at the ceiling, finally allowing the tears to roll down my cheeks.