𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

TWENTY TWO

Vivianne

After practice, my dad drove me straight home, no radio on or nothing. I just rode in silence, too afraid to have my phone out or he'd find some reason to want to take that. Too afraid to try and start up any conversation or it might backfire on me.

Was this how it felt when my mom would give him the silent treatment? I can't keep living all tensed like this. It's my last year of high school. I don't wanna remember it as a crappy thing...although the presence of Constance is surely livening my life up.

"How was practice today?" he asked finally as he pulled up into the driveway.

"It was fine," I said, trying to keep any attitude out of my voice. My dad only sighed. I guess that wasn't what he was hoping to hear. Too vague of an answer, my mother would say, surely I must have been doing something I didn't want them to know about.

"When will we stop tiptoeing around each other and be a family again? I feel like I'm in prison," I looked at him as he unlocked the doors. He had even went as far as putting a child lock on the side he made me sit on. Directly behind him. They didn't trust me anymore...and honestly, I didn't trust them.

"Better than being in a mental hospital, Vee," he stated, his eyes hard with emotion as he got out and opened up my door.

"Just because something is better doesn't make it right, Mason," I snapped. Knowing that'd push his buttons. Knowing he'd go off.

He lunged into the car and grabbed me by the throat, "Now I'll send you to where I went to school at in a second. You den been around these white folks too much! Callin' me by my damn name. Have you lost yo motherfuckin' mind, Vivianne Grace Herida?" he yelled.

"Mason?" I heard someone faintly call out. "Mason?"

My mother appeared behind him, snatching him off of me as my father fumed. "Get your daughter, Diane," he snapped at her, grabbing his shit out of the passenger seat and going into the house as his keys clattered loudly on the pavement.

"The fuck is wrong wit you? Doin' all of this outside in front of these people?" my mother hissed. "Now get out the car." I got out, slinging my bag against me as I avoided eye contact with our neighbor who had stopped to watch in shock.

"He started it," I mumbled. My mother locked the vehicle, picking up the keys my father had dropped.

As soon as we got inside the house, all hell broke loose on Vivianne. "I don't care if he started it. He's your father and when you turn 18, you can't just be talkin' all reckless either, Vee. You'll go to jail when you get in altercations, and that'll be on your record forever."

"Does it kill y'all to be nice to me?"

"Tough love is what worked on me and it'll work on you too," my mother pointed at me. "Wash your ass, and come back downstairs. You know you can't stay up in your room."

"I didn't fuckin' attempt suicide! I was-

My mother's hand slapped across my cheek hard.

"We don't say that anymore in this house. Not suicide, not swear words, not any of it! None of it ever happened, Vivianne. Ever!"

My father watched from the kitchen, his hand shakily gripping the wall.

"So we punish me, but pretend none of this ever happened? How convenient for you. Maybe shi- stuff like this is the reason why I like pain in the first place," I argued, fighting the urge to rub my stinging cheek.

"You don't know what you like. You're still a child," my mother stated.

"Oh, and when I turn 18 in April, I'll magically know what I like?" I laughed harshly. "Pain turns me on. And there's nothing wrong with that. It's been my only comfort when I had nothing else."