My Understandings [ON HOLD/EDITING]

My Understandings: Part 6

I walk downstairs to my kitchen trying to avoid my dad. I never get to eat when he's around because he doesn't think I deserve food. Because of that I weigh approximately 103 pounds, very under weight for my height. I sneak around the corner and open up the cupboards. Beer, vodka, no, gross, yes! I spot a box of granola bars and I grab it. I'm not taking one I need to whole fucking box to stash in my room.

I turn around to see my dad towering in front of me. Shit. He grabs the box out of my hands and throws it back in the cupboards.

"What do you think you're doing eating my food?" He says. He steps closer to me and gives me a deathly look.

"I was just a little hungry dad. I- I just wante-" I feel his hand cup my mouth to shush me.

"You don't eat, my food." He leans closer to me as he whispers this to me. I nod quickly, I just want to get out of this mess without another bruise. He lets go of my face and I brush past him, headed to my room.

All of the sudden I feel a strong force on my shoulders and my face immediately collides with my staircase. My dad chuckles to himself as he wanders back to the living room. My nose is bleeding and my face is throbbing. I quickly run up the stairs and into my bathroom to clean up my face.

It wasn't gushing so that was good, just a few drips and I was fine. It could have been worse. Sneaking food is the hardest thing to do with him. He hasn't been gone while I'm home in awhile so I haven't been able to get some. I've been nibbling on a loaf of bread for the past few days and it sucks, I'm sick of it.

I'm sick of a lot of things. I'm sick of my dad treating me this way. It's not fair. I know I'm far from being a perfect child but I don't think I deserve to be hit and kicked, no kid does. Why did this have to happen to me? Why couldn't I just live a somewhat normal life? At least then my problems wouldn't be worrying about when the next punch will be thrown at me.

I walk over to my bed and sit down. I take a deep breath and run a hand through my hair. I need to go to college and get out of here, I need to get away. There were still about 2 1/2 months left until I could leave. It was only 2 weeks into summer, I wish time would go by faster.

I hear someone tap on my window and look over to see Aaron clinging to the windowsill. I walk over and open the window to let him in.  I have no idea how my dad doesn't notice the ladder next to my window.

"Hey!" He says as he gives me one of his signature bear hugs.

"Hi." I reply with a weak smile. He walks over to my tv and chairs and pulls out a few of my games from the shelf.

"So, Portal 2 or Black Ops 2?" He asks.

"Uh... We can play Black Ops." I turn so I can close my window and walk over to my bean bag chair. I plop down and slowly sink into the chair, Aaron does the same in my other chair and hands me a controller. I take it and the title screen pops up. I don't really want to play, but I don't want to tell Aaron that. It would break his heart.

I would say we spent about 2 hours yelling variations of "Oh bitch! Shot me in the head!" or "BOOM HEADSHOT!"'s. Call of Duty brought out the inner gamers that we were, which got scary sometimes. I remember the day me and Aaron kept getting sniped and... long story short I needed new controllers.

Hanging out with Aaron was always fun but these feelings of worthlessness won't leave my mind. I always knew my dad hated me but lately it's been hitting me harder than his beatings. I was beginning to feel truely worthless, like I'm not supposed to live. I know that would make my dad happy but... He's a monster.

I'm obviously thinking too much becuase in an instant Aaron starts saying my name over and over because I keep getting killed. I'm not thinking about the game, I'm thinking about how worthless I am. The round ends and I set down my controller.