Live Moves On

Life Moves On

            I roll up my sleeves, checking myself in the mirror one last time before heading out for my part-time job. Just as I reach the front door, a screech comes from the master bedroom.

"Oi! Where are you going?!"

I sigh again. This is the nth time since the last hour that she is asking.

I shout back that I am heading to my workplace before quickly exiting the prison.

It's 5AM. Mum had just returned from her nightly alcohol-binging session when I stepped out of the common bathroom, freshly showered, an hour ago. She is getting home later and later, I notice. Usually she would leave at 10 and return before 2. Yesterday she left at 8 and just only returned at 4. It doesn't help that Dad is hardly ever home, returning only to demand money and then leaving for who-knows-how-long, doing God-knows-what. I'm guessing he's still keeping his job since there hasn't been any call from his company asking for his whereabouts or loan sharks demanding payment. Then again, we don't have a landline, so who knows.

Taking the train, I let my mind wander to how it has gotten so bad. Mum and Dad used to be so loving. We used to be a happy family. Mum, Dad and me. It was us against the world.

Then 5 years ago Dad got retrenched. Mum had to work double, triple shifts to help cover the bills while Dad desperately looked for another job. I took up part-time jobs during the weekends to help out by supporting myself. Mum didn't know. She would have had my head if she did. She never suspected anything when I stopped asking her for money. From then on, things went on a downward spiral. Dad started drinking his stress away, and he would come home drunk and enraged, and took it out on Mum who would be up waiting for him even though she had an early shift the next day. Dad would come home later and later every night, or morning, and his late returns turned to weekly returns, and the last time I saw him was 2 months ago, on my birthday.

I was ecstatic when I saw his shoes at the front door, when I came home from school. I thought he had finally changed. It was my birthday after all, maybe he finally saw his mistakes and repented. I opened the door in sheer excitement and greeted him but my air was suddenly cut off.

Dad had pulled my collar and his face was mere inches from mine. I smelt nothing but the disgusting stench of mixed hard liquor. He had probably drunk himself stupid again, mixing all sorts of drink as long as it contained alcohol – the stronger the better. I tried breathing through my mouth but even that proved difficult when my windpipe wouldn't open up for more air to pass through.

He glared at me with bloodshot eyes and growled, "I need money. Give me money."

"Give the useless bastard what he wants and make him leave, for fuck's sake." I glanced over Dad's shoulder and see Mum leaning against her bedroom door, rubbing her face and shaking her head. "He's been screaming for the past half hour and my head is splitting. Where have you been anyway? What took you so long? You could have put me out of this misery by hurrying home instead of taking your own sweet damn time."

I grunted, and he released me, anticipating. I took out my wallet and counted the money I needed but he grabbed the whole thing and took all the cash inside, throwing my wallet aside.

"I need some for school!" I tried to reach for the money but he pushed me back.

"What school?" he sneered. "Why do you even try? You're too stupid for school."

And he walked out.

Just like that.

I looked up at Mum but she shook her head, grumbling, "Useless piece of shit." Before going into her room.