Team USA *Adam Banks*

This House

   I was packing when my door opened about half way, "Why are you packing?"

   "Remember how I told you the Ducks are playing as team USA in a national Championship again?" I asked, turning to look at him.

   "You never told me that," he walked in making me step away from my suitcase and to the other side of the room.

   "We're leaving for LA tomorrow..." I admitted, trying not to argue with him.

   "Do you realize how selfish that is? You're leaving me," his voice was angrier, "You aren't leaving this house."

   "I'm sorry, dad..."

   "Damn right you are, you know what if you want to leave then just get the hell out now and take your fucking suitcase, I don't want your shit in my house," he pushed my open suitcase on the ground and as I turned to look at him he grabbed my wrist tightly, "I better not see you or your stuff when I get up, but I hope you realize if I change my mind...I will find you."

   "Dad, my arm," his grip tightened.

   "What about it? Does it hurt," I nodded in return and felt his finger rip from my arm, "God you're such a goddamn wussy bitch."

   I watched him walk out and looked at my wrist that was now turning red from irritation, I pulled my sleeve over it feeling my hands shaking, I tried to pick up and fold my clothes as calmly as possible, but got frustrated as my hands refused to stop.

   As soon as my suitcase was packed I laid down looking up at the ceiling, thankful that things didn't go worse with my father. Even though he kicked me out he could have done much more damage which would make it more noticeable to the team, I didn't want them to think I was seeking attention, I was happy to even be friends with them again, I couldn't mess this up.