Tinkering Hearts

Chapter Nineteen

Zaelia

It's been two weeks since mid-terms ended and the results came in today. Expectedly, I didn't score anything record-breaking. Enough not to rewrite any of my subjects. But the problem was showing my report to my parents. They had made a deal with me for this exam. If I were to bring eighty percent or above, they'd let me keep my socials. If not...

I didn't even wanna think about the if not. But now, the case is different. I brought anything but eighty or above. With so much that was revealed to me all of a sudden, I lost track of my study time. My schedule was all over the place and I was barely keeping up in class. If my parents had told me all of this earlier, it wouldn't have turned out this way. In a way, it was their fault.

My stomach is in knots, dreading the thought of losing all my online friends. I can't lose Sia. I can't lose all my other douchebag friends. As I make my way to the front door my head starts throbbing. I quickly turn around as my stomach churns and run to the nearby bushes. I try to calm myself down and hyperventilate. I crouch down and drink some water before everything spills out. I throw up.

A little. But it still surprises me. I haven't puked since kindergarten after some doctor gave me an injection when I had severe throw-ups at that time. The little me since then always thought it was some kind of magic, but I know better now. 

I empty my water bottle and wash my face thoroughly. I don't know why I'm sweating and nervous on totally not a normal degree. I'm afraid. 

I stand back up and get out of the bushes. Before I know it I was entering through the front door. I see dad's office shoes near the shoe rack and almost turn around to run back out. 

Why do they both have to be present in the house today?! WHY WHY WHY?!

Taking deep breaths, I get ready to make a quiet dash to my room, but dad walks out of his room.

"Oh you're home, sweety." 

I'm not buying that 'sweety'. I am not. I am not. I am— 

I hum and hand him my report card which was crumpled badly due to my anger in class when it was handed to me.

Being hopeful at all times is the only mistake God made while making me. Because right then, dad screams for mom to come. She comes running from the kitchen and dad hands her the report card. She gives me that look of disappointment. She asks me what the hell happened to me this term. I wonder why I was such a disgrace. Dad shouts that it's because of me being so much on the internet. 

The internet. The internet. The internet.

I stand there as tears brim my eyes. Dad asks me what I would do with myself in the future. I back answer him that it's not his fucking business. A slap lands on my face from mom, asking me to mind my language. 

Language. Language. Language—

"Why am I never enough for you both?! Why the hell do you get worked up on just a piece of paper?" I run a hand through my hair. "I asked you to leave my future to me. I told you to not worry about me fuc— twenty-four seven-..."

I sob uncontrollably now, my face probably red and my eyes burning with rage and tears. I couldn't feel my face. 

"Why can't you be grateful that I pay your fees and study seriously for at least once in your goddamn life?!"

"I AM! I KNOW WHAT I'M DOING. YOU THINK I DON'T TRY?! WE DON'T STUDY YOUR A-B-Cs IN THIS GENERATION!" I wipe my face furiously. "The world is progressing dad. This is not your time. I try to make you proud every fucking second of my life, but all you do is compare me to your past self. You are not even a successful human being!"