My Stepfather

Six

"What?! What the f-ck do you mean she's not pregnant?!" I stopped laughing instantly as his voice dropped into a growl.

"Meaning your sperm didn't join her egg-"

"Okay. Ew. That's enough." I rolled my eyes at his immaturity. Boys. "How do you know she's not pregnant?"

"Where did mother say she went?" I asked, knowing very well where she was.

"She said she was going to see a work colleague and wouldn't be back till tomorrow." He said.

"Lies." He had a confused face and I elaborated. "Her work colleague doesn't need our whole liquor cabinet does she?" His eyes widened in realisation. "Seeing as I filled it up in the weekend and now there's hardly a bottle left, not only tells me she's gone to join her druggie friends in a damp and crumbling flat room but also that she's not pregnant."

His face contorted to rage. "That sly conniving b-tch! She f-cked me over!" He began slamming his head against the table repeatedly once more before he stopped and looked up with a confused face. "Why do you fill up the liquor cabinet?"

"What would people think if a respectable woman went and bought a shopping cart of alcohol?! Although it is understandable if her rebellious and most hated daughter grabs it." I said in an overly sweet voice. I scoffed. "Where do you think I got the fake ID from?"

"She gave you that?!" He practically growled as he gritted his teeth together. "And what the f-ck do you mean druggie friends?"

"Druggie friends as in the ones that smell bad, live in abandoned buildings, constantly stoned... You get the point. She lives a double life you know. Yet she won't ever let them meet. I know of both and no one else will. I don't know how she gets away with it. I mean she has since high school. They're some of her high school friends." I cringed at memories of meeting them and shivered in disgust. Even I wasn't that fucked up.

"How do you know so much about them?" He asked with eyebrows creased.

"I don't even know who my father is. He left when I was only months old. That means I was in the constant care of her. She's not a stable person although she may seem it. There were times when she'd leave me home alone for hours during the night. Imagine a toddler, a young child left in a house alone for 8 hours, sometimes more. Dark, lonely, starving, thirsty, cold... It was horrible.

"Then she started taking me along, sometimes. Imagine a child in a sleezy apartment or abandoned house filled with whores, prostitutes, drugged up and drunk people. Cocaine on the tables, smoke in the air that I would choke on. I remember everything. She would just take me, leave me in a room and walk off. The men that would try to grope me the women would blow smoke in my face and laugh as I choked. They'd force alcohol into my mouth. I used to be drunk myself sometimes. I'd try to run away and hide under a bed the whole time and I'd lie there on the floor covering my ears because of the filthy sh-t I'd have to hear from the people f-cking on top of the bed. Sometimes I could get away, sometimes I couldn't..." I whispered the last three words. I had felt as if I was in a trance. My eyes had glazed over and my cheeks were wet from the tears that slipped. I scrubbed them off my face. What was I doing? I had never told anyone any of this before. Why did I start now? I never cried in front of anyone. Crying showed weakness and I wasn't weak.

Great. He probably thought I was a weak f-cked up child, crying about my issues. Why did I go and do that? I got up from the booth without looking at him and ran out toward my truck. I rolled the window down and let the cold air breeze against my face. I didn't need anyone to help me or even know my business. Once he gets the chance to, I'll know for a fact he was going to run for the hills. No one was going to come and save me. I had to get out of this my self. I never believed in fairytales as a child. Why should I start now?