O2 | oh, how much I hate you

187 20 11
                                    

It is approximately 9:30 PM, and Mrs

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It is approximately 9:30 PM, and Mrs. Jones, Chase and Balir left about an hour ago. She told me to call her at 10-o'clock if my parents didn't come home by then. That way, I can sleep overnight at the Jones' house, which I'm looking forward to.

I am laying in my bed, listening to music playing at maximum volume. I have a clear view of the window from here; that way I can see my parents if they show up. The door is locked, so I'd have to open it for them.

As if on cue, the gate swings open, and my mother enters through the gate. I groan in annoyance.

I get up and grab the key hanging on my neck, tossing my phone on to the bed. As I make my way down the stairs, the steps creak. When I reach the bottom, I walk to the front door, and unlock it.

Opening the door, the wind hits my body full-force. I shudder — I'm only in my pajamas, and it's snowing outside.

I hate the snow.

As expected, my mother is standing in the entrance. Her eyes are red and puffy, probably from crying over my brother, Jake.

She still hasn't gotten over his death, even though it's been over a year. But I don't think anyone can ever really get over it.

My mother only spares me a glance, before she walks into the house. I can tell that she's drunk because she's stumbling.

Before she makes it to the staircase, I speak. "I turned thirteen today..." I say, bowing my head slightly.

She visibly freezes.

Looking up, I feel tears of anger build up in by eyes. "...but you weren't there." My voice raises. "You didn't show up!" I cry out.

I feel the tears drip from my cheeks, as I wait for her to reply. When she doesn't, I lose it.

"Say something!" I scream — louder than I've ever done before.

"What do you want me to say, goddamit?!" she exclaims, sounding desperate, volume paring my own. "That I forgot my own daughter's birthday because I was too drunk to remember?!"

She says all this without turning around once.

I'm sobbing uncontrollably at this point. The tears burst like water being released from a dam. The walls that I built over the previous year simply collapse. I'm trembling, and I can't stop.

Without thinking, I let violent words fly out from my mouth; ones that a year ago, I thought I would never utter to my own mother.

"I hate you!" I scream at the top of my lungs. "I hate you!"

With blurry eyes, I stomp angrily to the living room, feeling dead inside.

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