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"Just shake that weight off, and you'll be ready to fly" 💫
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(TW: Mentions of SH)
The walk home from school was full of aches and anxiety, though I wouldn't show it. The leaves crunched underneath my feet as I shoved my hands in my pants pocket. The rain had stopped, but sprinkles would occasionally hit me by surprise. The more I walked down the desolate street, the more rugged the houses got. I watched the passing windows that protected the happy families, some of them were single mothers and fathers, and a majority were perfect couples with their kids. Eating dinner.
I looked back down at my worn-out vans, trying my hardest not to compare myself to those. My dad was an alcoholic bastard, and my mom was a woman who was afraid of tough confrontations and physical anger. I was in the middle of it, sitting there, pretending to be surprised when I wasn't at all. It was tiring, walking into that house, seeing a place that was clean out of fear, dinner that was wasted by my father because it wasn't as good as his work wife would've made it.
I was used to it by now.
Then it came to me, when he would see me, he would have a fit. Telling me that my hair was attracting attention, that I was one minute late to get home because I was out there, being a hoe of some sort. At first, I would argue with him, but he would eventually push me, pull my hair, and or break something of mine to show that he indeed ran the household.
Once I finally got in that hellhole, I saw my mom drinking a glass of wine, sitting in the dining room. The smell of cigar smoke and burnt food wavered around. I looked around the house, not seeing my dad. I then glimpsed back at Mom.
"Where is he?" I asked lowly, putting my hood down so my wild hair can breathe. She looked up at me, the bags under her eyes were exposed by the faint light hanging from the ceiling. She rolled her eyes and placed down her wine glass, getting up and letting out a loud groan.
"I'm sure you can guess, seeing the wasted dinner on this damn table." she spat while walking over to me. I scoffed, knowing exactly what that meant. He was at his thots house. My mom never said anything, nor did she want to leave him. I don't understand why. I guess it's because of how possessive he is over us. He can do whatever he wanted, while we sat at home, becoming damaged and hurt.
