"Fuck you." Love you, too

Friday Night

"You're so fucking useless!!!" I flinch as father yells at me. He's been yelling at me nonstop for the past 10 minutes that I'm surprised he hasn't had a heart attack and stopped breathing. 

"You never do anything around the house! I give you a fucking home to live in and all you do is sit around and not do shit!!!" He screams at me. He's thrown at least 3 beer bottles at my head by now. 

I snapped. "I am not useless!! You know how much shit I do around this house?! While your drunk ass fucking sits around or sleeps or goes somewhere to get more drunk!!!" I scream back at him. 

He stops yelling to start smiling. "Get the fuck out."

I freeze. My heart drops. The tone in his voice was different from all the other times he's 'kicked me out'. He honestly sounded, sober. Right then and there. "What?.."

Somehow his smile widens. "You heard me. Get the fuck out. If you want to talk back to me, say I'm useless when I'm the one paying the fucking bills for this house, working a job and being a priest, then get the fuck out." He shakes his head and laughs, then continues. "The only reason we kept you was because your mother wanted you. I never wanted you. Now that she's gone, you can be gone too."

Tears fill in my eyes and threaten to fall. I force them to leave by blinking them back. "No... No, I'm 17 dad! Please, you can't kick me out!! I have nowhere to go, no family, no friends, please." 

He snickers and takes a drink out of his beer bottle. "Does it look like I give two shits? You made the mistake by talking back to me. You know damn well it was going to happen eventually." 

There was no point in talking back to him. I knew that he was being serious. I knew that I wasn't going to be welcome back here, but just to make me feel even shittier he made it clear I'm not welcome back.

"If I ever, hear, or see, you come near this house, I will find you, and shoot you dead. Do you understand that, Travis?" 

I force myself to nod.

"Great! So, go pack your fucking shit, and get out. You have 10 minutes. If you aren't gone in 10 minutes, you're dead." He smiles, walks into the living room, sits down on the couch, and looks at the clock. "Your 10 minutes has started." 

~~~ 

I walk out of the house, my mind in a haze. Phillip told me this week that his parents would be back for a few weeks, so he wasn't an option. My head was pounding. I don't know if it's because I was shouting, being shouted at, or if maybe, just maybe, a beer bottle actually did hit my head. He did throw one at me on the way out of the house. I didn't even care because I was crying the whole time I was packing. Not to mention I was scared shitless when he said he would shoot me if I didn't leave. So here I am, walking in the dark, at 10 pm, with no clue on where the fuck to go. So, I walk to the park, sit down on the swing with my bag leaning against the metal stand, and start crying my eyes out.