Beautiful Casualty

Chapter One

"Dad," I shook my father as he lay down on the bathroom floor, passed out with the smell of booze on his breath. "She's doing it again, Dad." My mom was in the bedroom with some man that she most likely didn't even know. "Daddy," I shook him again as my mom's moaning got louder, but he wouldn't budge. I sighed deeply and stood up. "Fuck," I said under my breath as I walked into the hallway.

I walked out the front door without saying a word to my mother and started down the street. I didn't want to be in the house when my whore-of-a-mother was screwing someone while her own husband was laying in the next room unconscious. My dad only drank because of my mother, she's been cheating on him ever since I was seven--that I know of anyway.

I walked down the street without stopping until I came across a tall, dark-haired man with a cigarette pressed between his lips. "Hey, man," I said. "You got another one of those?" He nodded and dug around in his coat pocket for a second before dragging out a cancer stick and a lighter. I took it from his hand and placed it between my unpainted, chapped lips. He put his lighter to the cigarette and lit it. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he smiled. "So, you live around here or something?"

"Or something," I said. He nodded as if he knew what I meant. I took a long drag of the cigarette, then blew out a puff of smoke. "Well, I gotta go. Thanks for the smoke, though."

"Don't mention it," he called out as I walked away. I walked to the stoplight and pressed the button to the crosswalk. The wait for the sign to change seemed like forever, but the sign finally changed and I started across the street.

I walked until my feet started hurting, then I just sat down in front of an old, run-down convenience store that, for whatever reason, was this open this late at night. The paint was peeling off the concrete building and someone had graffitied it. I had put out my cigarette before I got there and I was already wishing I had another one.

A couple of people passed by me, some smiled at me while others gave me dirty looks like they were disgusted by me, which wasn't anything new. I sighed and reached my hand in my pants pocket to see how much money I had. Three dollars exactly. Great. Just enough to buy me a can of soda and possibly a cheap snack. I stood up and went inside.

The place was almost vacant beside two other customers and the cashier. I walked all the way to the back of the store and opened the refrigerator door and grabbed the same can of soda I always got--Coke. Then, I walked to one of the aisles and stood there for a second, trying to figure out what I wanted and if I could afford it. Eventually, I grabbed a small bag of M&M's and made my way to the counter.

I sat everything down and reached into my pocket to receive the three dollars in change. I placed it on the counter as well. The cashier, whose nametag said 'Chris', didn't seem too happy to have to count it all as it wasn't just quarters, but he did anyway because if he didn't, he wouldn't get paid. He punched the prices and just when he tried to give me back the change, I told him to keep it. It was just a dime, anyway. I grabbed my snacks and went back into the dark outside.

I sat in the same spot I had before, leaning against the building and started to much on my snack. I leaned my head back against the concrete building and felt warm tears fall from my eyes, down my cheeks, and onto my neck.

I stayed there for a little bit after I finished my food, mostly because I didn't want to deal with my mother, but also because I needed to plan my escape a little more. I needed to get away from that house, away from my parents, away from everything they stood for. Eventually, I had to head home, though. My escape would take place that next day.

Dad had somehow promoted himself from a passed-out-drunk-lying-on-the-bathroom-floor to a passed-out-drunk-lying-on-the-living-room-couch. That was the most movement he'd done in months. You know, besides the lifting of his arm to take a drink. Mom was in her room, possibly asleep, but more likely still with the 'other guy'--if not a different one. I shook my dad, making sure he wouldn't wake up when I tried to move him, then pulled him off the couch. He made a loud thump noise as he hit the ground, but he still didn't wake up. I stepped over him and laid down on the couch, which was also my bed. I didn't have a room since our house was only a one bedroom. That room was usually occupied by my dad and Tiffany unless she had a customer, as she called them.

I fell asleep almost instantly once I got comfortable--well, about as comfortable as you can get while on a cheap-ass couch that has more springs than it does cushion.

I was rudely awakened the next day by Tiffany yelling at the neighbors for mowing their lawn so 'early in the morning', even though it was actually one in the afternoon. "Oh, my God," I yelled at her, rolling my eyes. "Would you shut the fuck up already?" She quickly turned around and stared at me, one eyebrow raised and a hand on her hip, or lack of hip. She was basically a straight line from head to toe. She wore a tanktop with no bra and the spaghetti straps hanging off her shoulders and her jean shorts were too short.

"Excuse me? Who the fuck do you think you are, young lady?" She yelled back at me from the doorway.

"I don't think I'm anybody, Tiffany," I sat up, looking at her, but not straight at her Dad had moved, but where? "I know I'm the daughter of a whore who's screaming at the neighbors for mowing their damn lawn like normal people do." I hated my mother with a passion. She'd never done anything for me that a mother was supposed to do. It made me sick just to look at her.

She started stomping towards me and I tried to run from what was about to happen, but I was too late. She pulled me off the couch and slammed me against the already holey walls, causing another to form. I struggled to stand up. "Get the fuck off me!" I shouted when she grabbed my arm, pulling my face up to look at her.

"Listen, you little bitch. I am your mother and you will respect me," she said in a low tone, lower than I've ever heard from her.

"You know, mother, to earn respect, you've gotta give it." She scoffed as she let me go, returning to her spot in the doorway. I stood up and said under my breath, "I hate you."

"The feeling's mutual, Tessie," she pulled out a cigarette, placing it between her lips. I couldn't see it, but by the tone of her voice, I knew she was smiling.

I stood up slowly and quietly walked to the kitchen where her purse was. I unzipped it and grabbed her extra pack of cigarettes and all the money she had in her wallet, which was about one hundred fifty. I walked over to the couch, where my hoodie was laying on the arm and buried to cigarettes and money in the pocket.

All the while, I kept an eye on Tiffany, making sure she wasn't watching me.

I grabbed my school bag and snuck into the bedroom, where my Dad lied passed out. I dumped all my school stuff in the bottom of the closet, which was already full of shit so she wouldn't notice. Then, I grabbed all the clothes I had in the closet, which wasn't much, and put them in it. I kissed my dad on the forehead before I left the room.

I quietly made my way to the back door.

I climbed the fence into the alleyway behind our house, which was pretty vacant besides an old, homeless man who sat beside an old garbage can, and started walking down it towards the main street. I didn't plan to go back, or ever see my parents again. They probably wouldn't even care that I was gone, my mother would probably be happy that she no longer had to deal with me.

I left...forever.