I didn't take my meds today.
Two days ago Caitlin Adams asked if I was bipolar because I was into her on Monday but by Friday I had figured out that she was too demanding.
But those words, that question... it seeped into my soul and tarnished my tho...
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"Oh mah god. Oh mah god. Oh mah god." Lydia whispered excitedly when Jamie walked away. I glanced at Cameron silently as I sat on the sofa drinking a luke warm diet coke.
"I just can't believe that he's over there. I'm in his house. He got me a coke and I'm going to see him play soccer." She was talking about Liam.
Jamie had brought his girlfriend home to meet the parents and she was infatuated with his dad. It was embarrassing and weird.
"Arlo isn't texting me back." Jamie bounced down into his seat and rested his feet up on the coffee table. Lydia cuddled into him.
"Okay, here." Liam handed us soccer jerseys and I glanced down at it with an unsure expression. "We wear jerseys when we watch the game, obviously."
He threw some Cheetos into his mouth, knocked Jamie's feet off the coffee table and sat down. Lydia immediately moved away from Jamie and closer to Liam.
"Obviously." I repeated with sarcasm.
I pulled the jersey over my head, slipped my arms in and pulled my hair out from underneath. It felt weird, sinful.
Lexi and her two dads let themselves into the house chanting some song, I'm guessing it had something to do with the game. Noah and Zak already wore jerseys but Lexi was dressed fancy in a short, skin tight black dress. Liam threw her a jersey and she threw it back.
"I'm not coming." She informed everyone
"What you mean you're not coming?" He questioned. "It's game night."
Okay, they were acting like 'game night' was their church. It was a very intense atmosphere, nothing could break it. The game came before all else. Attendances expected, absences frowned upon.
"I mean I'm not coming, I have a date." Lexi smiled proudly and the guys all broke out in childish 'oohs' which blew my mind because my father drown me in the bathtub for even speaking the word 'date.'
Five years old, twelve minutes after learning of my mothers passing my father said to me. "My sweet Fearne, I'll raise you well. I'll do the job your mother should've done, only better. You will serve your purpose on this Earth and reach the temple. I will keep you pure, teach you how to be a woman and how to honour your husband."
Seven years old, "My sweet Fearne, you know what makes you special? Your virginity. Look how beautiful, innocent and pure you are with it."
Eight years old the day I returned back to him from six weeks in care, "I've booked you in for a hymen exam. I want to make sure nobody has stolen from me." He treated me inhuman until the doctor confirmed my hymen was intact.
Eleven years old, in the mists of flying off the handles because I looked at boy. "Fucking whore just like your mother! Your body belongs to me, only I get to say what you do with it and who you give it to!" He chaisted me for five hours, baptised me in the bathtub and locked me in the chamber. I didn't even know what boy I was meant to have looked at.
