"Pretty Girl"

12 - shit..

Malorie's POV:

"Malorie Janelle Abbott!" Dad says, in the parking lot of Walmart.

"Shit!" I whisper. We turn around. My mom.. and dads.

"Hey..!" I say.

"What the fuck?!" He says. "I told you Thursday and then you go and you leave school?!"

"Yeah.." I say. "It was my idea. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, you better fucking be! You're not going to your mother's this weekend since you seemed to have all your fun now!"

"Wait- what?" I say.

"There's consequences to your actions, Malorie!"

"No!" I say, voice breaking. Don't cry. Not now. Don't split. No. Fuck. The meds. Why aren't they helping anymore?

"Yes! Let's go!" He says, grabbing my arm.

"Danny wait. Stop," daddy says. He lets go of my arm.

"She's a teenager. We did this exact same thing and if our parents split us up we'd find a way to see each other. And I know you remember that."

"Also, unless you want us to be dead this weekend, we should let her see her damn girlfriend. You remember what she said it feels like the world is gonna end."

"Yeah but she also needs some discipline. Just because she has a mental illness doesn't mean she can be babied," my mom says.

"She's not being babied! I don't know about either of you but I wouldn't want to feel like I'm going to die because I can't see the person I love!" He says.

"She needs some type of consequence!"

"And she'll get one! Taking away her phone or not letting her go out for a week after school! But not not letting her see her favorite person! For gods sake to any of you know anything about borderline personality disorder?!"

"Have you educated yourselves at all since her diagnosis?"

"This is the one that'll make her learn, though!" My mom says.

"You don't get it!" He says.
"For gods sake, we aren't doing that! Drop it!"

"Yes we are," dad says.

"I hate both of you," I say. They look at me.
"I hate both of you!" I shout.

"Open the fucking door Brie I'm not going with them I'd rather crash the fucking car than go- let me go!" I strain as my mother holds me back.

"You're going with your dads, Malorie. Stop it. You're not always going to get your way and you can't throw temper tantrums to try and get out of it." I push her back.

"You're one of the reasons why I'm this way!" I shout.

"We are in a Walmart parking lot.. honey.." Brie says.

"Okay, stop. Let's go," my dad says.

"No! No!" I shout. He grabs me.
"Stop it!!" I shout.

"Malorie let's go!" He says, raising his voice.

"Let her go!" Daddy says.

"No! We're going!" Dad says. Daddy pulls me back. He pulls me into his arms.

"You can't fucking force her! Do you see what happens?! You're probably giving her PTSD while you're at it!" He holds the back of my head.

"C'mon, kiddo," he pulls away.