Scarlett's Scars

~ o n e ~

                How did I get here? Why am I here? What is the purpose of me being here? I want to know that, too. My Mom decided, ‘Hey, 23 years of marriage isn’t good enough for me, why don’t I cheat on my husband and see how that goes?’ and then decided to be bad at cheating/lying and get caught.

                Divorce papers were promptly served on her part.

                Mainly because she was a Christian and pregnant.

                It’s funny how these things work.

                And now there’s my Dad. Broken, upset, and feeling fucked over. He’s a writer. I haven’t seen him since last week. He’s like Bigfoot. Everyone thinks he’s there but it’s hard to find him. Sometimes he makes an appearance but it’s never long enough to get photographic evidence of it. You’d hear him shuffling around in cabinets every once in a while, the refrigerator opening up late at night, the flush of the toilet, the turning on of the shower at 1:30 in the morning.

                But that was it.

                My family used to be happy. We were the kind of family that did everything when I was younger. We went to the zoo every month, movies of weekends, arcades, park visits, bike rides, camping trips, beach trips you name it we did it. We had fun and things were prefect.

                When I reached second grade things changed.

                They started arguing.

                I wasn’t sure if it was an overnight thing, or if I just noticed it one day, but they started fighting. Screaming, throwing plates, things that sent me slipping out the back door to wander the streets, silent tear tracks sliding down my face. Then I’d make my way home and slip in unnoticed. It worked well in the end, I suppose.

                Years and years later after fighting and screaming and breaking things I’d become used to all of it. I had just turned 15 when my parents decided to go to the last resort. Some people go to marriage counselling, but no, my parents had another kid. Another little life to fuck up themselves.

                I guess looking back now Aurora did work for some time. Mainly because they were too tired to take care of her properly, let alone argue. They would go to her once or twice during the night, but they mainly slept through her constant screams and cries. That was when I became a mother at 15. Virgin as Mary herself and notoriously single I had a baby.

                My sister.

                Mom wanted to take Aurora but I wouldn’t let that happen. Mom kept trying to take her from me so I grabbed the one year old from the floor and sprinted up the stairs, slamming my bedroom door shut and locking it, holding her close to me and sliding down to the floor, hugging her to my chest as she wailed, the constant banging and yelling coming from the other side of the door frightening her.