The Beginning

186 2 1
                                    

"Talks" that's all they are. It always starts off with, "We need to talk." The epic beginning to an annoying downward spiral to hell. They always end the same way. My parents don't believe I can do anyhting. Heck, everybody thinks that, but this conversation had more to it than that. They share the same opinion:

"We want you gone."

They say the same thing:

"I don't care what happens to you."

They change the ending:

"You're moving out ASAP."

What? I don't understand. I do everyhting I can and they even notice - they don't care to notice. I cooperate, staying as silent as possible and this is the outcome. How could this happen?

"We haven't planned out all of the details yet, but you are leaving. No matter what."

Silence.

I can't say a thing. I can't move. I can't do anything but sit there.

Shocked would be an understatement. Stunned, maybe? They leave the room and I'm left feeling a slight sense of nausea. What am I going to do? What are they trying to pull? How could this happen? Coming from a low-class family, I don't understand what they expect me to do. Instead of stressing over it, I lay down and close my eyes, hoping it would all be forgottenin the morning.

~~~

Cold. Why am I so cold? It's dark. Where am I? Voices. I hear voices. One unfamiliar and my parents. What are they saying? UGH! Why is so cold? I get up in a flash. Oh, I'm in the living room with the windows wide open - in Autumn! Crazy people. After getting up and shutting the windows, I listen for the voices I heard, but don't hear a thing. I guess I was imagining things, or something.

I can't sleep. I feel empty. I grab my ear buds and phone from the coffee table and go to my room. Maybe listening to music will help me sleep.

****

"We've found a solution." My father says.

"Solution to what?" I ask, not ready to hear the response.

With a slight hint of malice in her tone, she says "Our promblem - you."

I swallow back the pain of those words. I'm not an only child, but I'm considered the problematic child of three. It used to bother me, but now I just ignore it.

Growing nervous, I ask "What do you mean 'solution'?"

Her irritation apparent, my mother says "Meaning we have someone willing to take you out of our hands."

No...

SilenceWhere stories live. Discover now