Raincoat

Carcerem

May 18, 2033

I do not mean to indulge you into my life. I know there are many people out there who face problems a million times bigger than mine, however I can't deny that mine still hurts. I have tried everything possible to move on, maybe even forget. Nothing ever works. Medication for depression is expensive and our budget does not allow for this. Instead, I fill my veins with poison and snort snow. It's my only way to cope, other than writing. In doing so I have realized that even if someone next to you is in a full body cast and you only have a broken arm, your arm still hurts.

~L.C. 

✂

I hated Fridays.

Weird right?

Fridays meant I would be stuck in my home for the two following days. Don't get me wrong, I love my mom and the frequent visits from my uncle, but it also meant my mind would be stuck in a dark place. 

Since my father went to jail, many things have happened. My mother has stayed single, her only focus has been raising me and her history with men is not a good one. On the other hand, Lincoln settled down with my now aunt, Jasmine. They have two children. Wilma is critically ill and shes living with us so mom could care for her. However, the medical bills just pile on the kitchen counter.

All the while, Michael sits in his jail cell not worrying about anyone outside of the prison walls.

I have sent him letters. I have called him. I have went to visit him. None of which received a reply. Every contact I've ever made with him was shut down. He has never replied to my letters, answered my calls, and has denied me when visiting him. I don't know why he does it. After all, he killed Claire for what she did to me and mom swears he loved me more than he loved himself but how can I believe that if he seems perfectly fine ignoring my existence?

I don't remember much of the events leading up to my fathers arrest. All I remember was drooling over how pretty the lights of the cop car were and frowning at how loud the horn blew. At the time, I did not care much that I did not have a father mostly because I only had him for a few months. I partly blame my mother for hiding me away from him for so long, but I also understand her. My hatred for him did not start until I started school. School was the worst place in my life. 

I never attended the daddy daughter dance every year at my elementary school, I just stayed home in my bed crying because I didn't have a daddy. Lincoln offered to take me plenty of times but I denied him. 

"You're not my daddy!" I would yell at him with my face red like a tomato and waterfalls falling down my cheeks. 

The biggest hurt occurred in fourth grade. 

In fourth grade, Michael reached the time where he could apply for parole due to good behavior. Our teacher, Mrs.Wilkins, made the whole class write letters to my father wishing him luck since she knew my relationship to him. 

I made sure my card was the most memorable. I included photos of me and my mom as well as a long paragraph I made my mom write to make sure it made sense. 

Two weeks later, my dad responded to all the children in my class. Except for me. 

"Haha! You're daddy doesn't love you!" They would chant when the teacher wasn't paying attention. 

His parole was later denied by the board due to their claim that he was a flight risk.

I remember sitting anxiously awaiting the result at home. It was during the summer time and my mom was cooking a meal; rice with dumplings and vegetables. Wilma had me on her lap braiding my hair as we sat watching everything unfold. My mother stood over the pot, anxiously tugging on her apron.

My heart sank once Wilma defined what "your parole has been denied" meant.

I cried all night.

The pain in my heart grew so large I cursed God and wondered why he would punish me like this.

Why couldn't  I have my daddy like everyone else?

As the years went on, I realized how lucky I was. Although he wasn't with me, I had friends whose parents were six feet under and I began to appreciate how much luckier I was.

In 10th grade, I met a boy. I gave him my virginity and I promised him my love. I've never had a man care for me as much as he did.

David was his name.

We spent the entire school year together having sex in his brothers car, stealing liquor from the corner store, and pumping heroin into the others veins. He gave me a high I never felt before and for once in my entire life, I was loved by a man.

But just like every man in my life, he left. 

Now I'm in my last year of high school, still wondering how I was able to make it this far, surviving every curve ball life had thrown my way. 

What did I do to deserve a life like this?