This screams seemed to echo inside of my head. It seemed like my parents would never stop fighting.
Ever since I've turn fifteen, it's all they have seemed to do. The nonstop bickering drove me insane, but I could never do anything to stop it. And when I did interfere with the last argument, it didn't go so well on my end.
The only way for me to escape this helpless feeling was to leave her an hour, and hope things turned out all right. I left a note lying on the table so my parents knew where I was to some degree.
I knew that the fight was stop, because things always turned out the way they needed to be.
I never did anything crazy or reckless while I was out. It was normally just sitting on a park bench, listening to my favourite playlist, and writing down any pain or suffering that I was feeling in my notebook. But I wouldn't even consider my pain painful because I've grown so used to it that is become a part of me. Affecting how I do in school and at home.
The failure of my parents to raise me never allowed me to make friends. Which normally I thought was okay, and only days like these, I wish I had a few. I grab some French fries and headed back home after what seemed like eternity.
As I swung the front door open, not a noise was made. "Dad? Are you home?" I asked the silence. Already knowing that there would be no answer, I plopped down on the couch browsing through all the Netflix shows.
Finding nothing to fill my interests, I opened my computer to type out my latest piece of writing. Whatever I write, or think about writing, all sense of time is lost, which I am quite grateful for.
Soon enough, the front door opened and in trudged my dad, his eyes still filled with frustration.
Glancing up at me, a small smile appearing on his face, "Cameron, If you're hungry, there's Thai in the fridge." I nodded my head.
My father was a kind hearted man, who loved his family dearly. But ever since my biological mother passed, he has had the hardest time recovering.
Although he never took his pain out on me, the woman he dated to try and conceal his pain did. It was never physical abuse, but more like mental abuse.
They would all scream at me whenever my father wasn't around. They never really cared about me because I was just another mouth to feed, but they never worked. It was always my father who made all the money.
As the night progressed, I headed to my bedroom hoping that I would be able to get some sleep.
When I woke up the next morning, I logged into my zoom meeting for AP College Composition. This was my favorite class for many reasons.
First, writing always came easily to me so this class is very easy. And second, my teacher is the nicest woman on the planet, other than my mother.
A quite knock tapped on the outside of my door and in walked my father.
"Did you sleep alright last night?" He asked.
"Yeah, I mean I'm not as tired as I normally am,"I replied.
"Well I was just asking because you walked into my room asking where your mother was."
I studied his face, but before I could answer him, my step-mother charged in.
"Dave, why does your sick daughter keep coming into my room in the middle of the night and waking me up? The little baby was crying for her mother. You don't need your mother. You're fifteen, almost sixteen."
I just looked at her, knowing that there was nothing I could do to defend myself.
"Carol, I have had enough of you abusing my daughter and treating her like this. Cam, please stay in your room and finish your lesson. Carol, please follow me outside, there are some things I would like to tell you " My father commanded.
I couldn't tell what was said during that conversation, but by the look on my step-mothers face, it wasn't good.
A/N
Word count~710
I have so much in store
The pictures at the top of the page are Cameron's hair style, outfit, and makeup for the day