What I would love to have in the morning is quite simple: peace. You would think that would be a rather possible request, however fate deemed otherwise.
“Fucking bitch!” I hear my dad half yell half groan as I kicked his lifeless shell which he called his body. I hadn’t realized before how skinny he’d been getting lately, spending the money he didn’t have on booze rather than food. He’d drink himself silly each night, and I should help him? Sometimes I wish he wouldn’t come home. I wish he would just stay out, sleep on the sidewalk or in the dumpsters, I don’t care. But when he’s here, hopelessly at my mercy, all I am able to show him is compassion, not what I’d rather it be: the door.
Manoeuvring my way around to his shoulders, I scoop underneath his arms, bring his back right to my chest, and begin to drag with all my strength, which was generally quite diminished. It actually is a blessing my father has lost weight. I back my way up until reaching the stairs, cursing and hissing with each step up, gripping onto his shoulders with force fueled by disappointment. My dad stirs slightly as I wallow in pity, and I am pleased to find he took so much comfort in my suffering that it sent him to sleep.
Once we make it up the stairs, a sigh of relief left my body, although soon replaced by the dread of knowing the next morning would be no different. It was but an inescapable factor of my life now, my morning routine, to haul my drunk father to his bed. Perhaps my life sentence.
After managing to shift my dad into his room, I was so exhausted, I feel my eyes slowly close, fighting to stay open but inevitably losing. After I don't know how long, I wake up, on the cold uncomfortable floor with a killer headache and back pain.
Thanks so fucking much dad. I couldn't wish for a better one.
Deciding to leave my dad on the carpet beside me, becoming fed up of repeating the same tireless actions day by day.
I trudged back down the stairs, half aware, half asleep, and shrieked at the sight of a broad figure looming over the kitchen counter. His head whipped around, eyes wide with a startled expression, but soon relaxed as he saw it was me.
“Morning, Alex,” my idiot brother, Matthew, exclaims, raising his coffee mug to his mouth, a slight smirk on his face. No one should speak to me before I have had my coffee. “Heard you knocking about early.” I snarl at his grin, knowing he could hear my struggles but showed me no kindness this morning as to help.
Go fuck yourself, Matt. Actually, how would you even do that? I never understand when people say that? Because I don't think it's the same thing as- I stop that thought right there.
“Didn’t want to get me a coffee, asshole?” I growl, in no mood for his shit today. I stuck up my middle finger as I dashed over to the coffee pot, in desperate need of caffeine to boost my energy and spirit. I would chug a sea of it if it could just get me through the day.
“Fuck, you seen the time? Not even dressed yet and five minutes until you have to leave for your new school,” he comments with a sly smile that I so badly want to wipe off his smug face. Though he was the older brother, he appears so much more immature than me. But I suppose that's always the way.
"Give me a ride?" I ask with a sweet smile. I'm aware that my expression drastically changed but he will genuinely leave me if I don't ask.
He shrugs. I don't have time for this. I can only hope he'll have some mercy on me.
I refrain from slapping him round the back of his head as I peer at the clock. Realizing that I am going to start sophomore year and a new year labelled as late. I huff, sprinting to my room.
My parents’ divorce was rough, uncivil and inevitably crushing for everyone. Over the summer, dad and I moved to California for a new start where Matt had already been sent and set up by our parents. My dad and stress do not pair well. I was worried at first; it’s now second nature to find my dad passed out, sprawled on the kitchen floor like a starfish, drenched in whiskey instead of sea water. My mum, she flew away, right into the arms of some young hot shot lawyer I can never remember the name of. She calls me from time to time, which I decline every time. If she doesn’t have time to care for me, why should I spend the time to talk to her?
I glare into the mirror at myself, my blonde hair cascading over my shoulders, my blue orbs piercing into my own soul. I contemplate my outfit choice - a cute suede burgundy pinafore dress with a white fitted off-shoulder top underneath, paired with black heeled boots. I haven’t even felt the slightest anxiety yet, and doubt I will at this point. I had been through a lot that everything seemed easy to get through.
I sling my black backpack over one shoulder and head out, dreading walking into a silent class with every pair of eyes turning my way.
Matt had left already, the fucker, in his new motor with Kai, who happened to live with Matt, and now my dad and I.
Oh, Kai Walker, many a girl doted on him, their notebooks filled with 'I (heart) Kai', but Walker was trouble. He had that certain look that could both melt your heart whilst also run the other way. He's intimidating but not to me. He reckons himself a bad boy but every guy I have met does the same thing. Coming home with bruised knuckles and a scowl permanently plastered on his face didn't make him some badass. In my opinion.
Matt had deemed me off limits, not just to Walker but the rest of his school. Now my school. Kai was a piece of work to say the least. One time, Matt and Kai were messing around in the kitchen, playing in the console. When I walk in, Kai goes silent and simply glares at me like he wants me dead. If he is such a bad boy, do it already! Well, I said that to him and it only made him glower all the more.
It's hard to deny that he's attractive. There are plenty of attractive people in the world. Somehow, his looks gave him this arrogant confidence to mow me down when he passed me in the wall. At the height and weight I am, it is generally easy to do so if I don't push back.
His smolder was scorching. His jaw clenched in frustration at my presence in his home. Or at least, that's what I think it is. It's hard to tell when he barely spoke two words to me. Upon our introduction, it was an unenthusiastic 'hey' which was more like a grunt, and one time, I recall him saying 'move'. Very interesting, I know.
Matt was a senior, as was Kai, so commanded the respect of all other humans at school. So I was told by my boastful brother. Kai was quarterback, naturally, and Matt was captain of the team. They had apparently offered captaincy to Kai but he turned it down, stating he would prefer to not have that responsibility or some shit. I think there was another reason though, a deeper, darker one.
Or I just love drama. Why not? My whole life was drama, what would it matter if I wanted everything else to be too?
The walk comes to an end when I see a giant prison-like building come into view. I cross my fingers, praying this is the place. I don't take direction well so the GPS on my phone could only do so much. Once I read the sign 'Redhill High School', I hug the sign post. A mistake on my part. Not only when other late stragglers begin to give me strange stares but also the fact I feel something sticky under my hands.
As I stroll down the corridors of my new school, it dawns on me that I have no clue as to what I am doing. Son of a bitch hung me out to dry.