Is Anybody Out There? It Feels Like I'm Talking To Myself. No One Seems To Know My Struggles, And Everything I Come From. - Eminem
" I-I'm sorry Dad...", I said just above a whisper. I remember what happened the last time I raised my voice at him.
" I said be home at 2:45' Angie! Look at the clock! What time is it?!", he screamed.
" 3-3:04...", I said with my head down in shame.
" What were you doing Angie? Huh?!"
"Nothing dad, I swear."
"We live a street away from the school, you should be home at exactly 2:45...if not earlier!"
I started to tear up.
" Was it some boy?", he said. His voice was getting quieter.
" No", I said. Everything was quiet for a minute.
" You're lying to me Angie, WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LYING TO ME!?!", he screamed so loud I thought our neighbors could hear him.
" I'm not lying to you!", I yelled back. He looked shocked. Oh.My.God. What have I done? He looked so angry. I could see is eyes turn into cold, crackling blue ice. He quietly walked from out of the livingroom into the kitchen. Then I heard the familiar spark of the stove. Here we go again. I stood there. In the middle of the livingroom frozen with fear. Of course I've been through this many times, but everytime it happens it feels just like first. Painful. Agonizing. Excruciating. My hands and arms still ache from last week.
" Angelica Maurice Flick-Moore! Get your ass in here!", he screamed. I started to silently cry while I slowly walked in the kitchen. " The waters getting warmer, so I suggest you hurry up and get it over with."
" Daddy please...", I sobbed.
" Do. It. Now.", he said. His voice was so full of...anger. Of hate and animosity.
" ...not again...please I'll be home on time and-and-"
" ANGELICA!", that was when I did it. I rolled up my sleeve...and smashed my hand into the full pot of boiling water...
I had my arm in that pot for two whole minutes before he said I could take it out. When I did I saw the same results I always get. Fire truck red skin and someplaces where the skin had peeled. I ran up to the bathroom and put a bunch of bandaids on it. Bandaids heal the physical pain...not the emotional one.
I cried in the mirror for about an hour before I remembered I had homework to do and school to go to tomorrow. I wiped away my tears with my good arm before heading off to my room to go to bed. Screw homework. It's not like I'm gonna be something in life anyway...
(C) ErBourne
Friday, June 01, 2012
4:37:11 PM
