The Pain of We (ON HOLD)

21

My head felt like it weighed a thousand pounds and all I wanted was a glass of ice cold water. I blinked a few times, my neck sore from how I was sleeping. On the coffee table there was a bottle of ibuprofen and a bottle of water.

I sat up and twisted off the cap, downing two pulls and half the water. How does my father ever get used to this? How can anyone?

I shut my eyes for a minute longer before getting up and heading upstairs. You were in the kitchen, stirring something at the stove. The oven was on and the timer buzzed off. You glanced over your shoulder. "Good morning, mind stirring this while I get the biscuits?"

I felt like I was in a dream. I nodded and took the whisk from your hand. I stirred the white gravy mixture while you took the biscuits out of the oven.

"How'd you sleep?" You asked, pulling butter and jelly out of the fridge.

I shrugged. "Alright, I guess. Is Sarah and Gabby and all them still asleep?"

"Gabby left right after I woke up. But other than her, they're all still asleep. How's your head?" You took the whisk out of my hand. "Did you see the ibuprofen I left for you?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Thank you. So what did you and Matt do yesterday? I mean, before you met back up with us."

"Uh... Matt smoked some pot, then some more. Then he talked about how amazing Gabby was, and how they would fuck last night... Then he started to drone on about how the color blue made him feel. So, yeah."

You looking into the pot. "Looks like this is done. Want to go wake up Sarah and Ally and Matt?"

I nodded.

"Oh, and, Lark?"

I glanced over my shoulder.

"I like you better sober."

...

You drove me home shortly after breakfast. It was nice to be home.

Dad didn't do anything to me but yell. I ignored him and locked myself in my room, planning to sleep off my hangover. I'd deal with everything else tomorrow. For now, I just need sleep.

...

I walked downstairs Saturday morning and started to make my father breakfast. I felt better today, but still felt off. I couldn't really describe it. I felt like I was floating, barely focused on reality.

My cell rang, Candice.

"Hi, Candice, I didn't think I worked today..." We had agreed that she'd call if I missed any shifts, or if there was a change. If she didn't call, then I come in whenever my next shift was.

"Right. Uh, about that. I don't think that I can keep you working for me anymore. Not after Thursday night."

"What do you mean?"

"I thought I was selling you booze for your father. But after you left the store, I saw you and your friends in the parking lot getting stupid. I can't sell you anything anymore. And, I'm sorry, but you're fired."

"What? No, Candice, I need this job. It's perfect. It's within walking distance and I've known you all my life. You can't fire me."

"I'll send you your paycheck in the mail. Please don't come and try to buy form me again. Sorry." She hung up.

Fuck.

I looked down at the eggs. Burnt.

"FUCK!" I yelled it. Tears started to run from my eyes and I sniffed, rubbing them away with the palm of my hand. "Fuck."

...
It was a waiting game. How long could my dad's twenty-four pack possibly last? Does he even remember how to buy beer? It's been so long since he's had to do it for himself.

I couldn't do anything but watch as one by one, his beer disappeared.

"Lark!"

"Yes?" I glanced up from my homework.

"Go get me another beer."

"I can't. We're out."

"Goddamn. Go buy some."

I nodded and grabbed my jacket.

I walked down the road and into Candice's liquor store. She saw me and put a hand on her hip. "What did I say, Lark? No more."

I felt tears burn in my eyes. "You don't understand. I can't go anywhere else. And he's mad already and he's out of beer and I need to buy more. Now."

"I can't do that. Please leave or I will call the police."

I bit my lip and wiped a tear from my cheek. "Okay." I left, taking my time heading back.

When I walked in the door, Dad called from the living room, "It better still be cold!"

I swallowed hard. "I don't have any, Daddy. She wouldn't sell me any. I'm sorry." I pulled my jacket in close around my body.

"What?" Dad appeared at the doorway, his eyes red rimmed. He glared at me, then at my empty hands. "I swear to God!" He grabbed the collar of my shirt, and started to swing at me, pushing me against the wall and banging my head on the peeling wallpaper. The flowers were once comforting.

"You fucking piece of shit! You can't do this one simple task!" He threw me to the ground and started to kick at my sides. I coughed, red trickling out of my mouth. "You fucking failure!" He kept kicking, then pressed his on my nose. A crunch rang out in the air and I screamed.

"Do I have to do everything myself?!" He kicked the side of my head before storming out the door.

My phone was on the floor, just barely out of my reach. I pushed myself just enough to get my fingers on it. I dialed your number, and waited. When I heard you answer your simple hello, I whimpered back, "Help."

I blacked out.

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(tbh I get really tired of always typing that.)