This story is about an 18 year old girl whose name is McKenzie. Full name; McKenzie Baker. She grew up with somewhat loving parents. Her mother cared so dearly for her and so did her father...kind of. He neglected her but paid more attention to her...
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Hi, my name is McKenzie. I'm 18 years old and I have assholes for parents. Some of my old classmates would spend so much time with their parents, then there was always me brainstorming a great lie just in case they asked me what me and my parents did over the weekend. The only one who knew how my parents truly treated me was my best friend, Brooklyn. She is my ride or die, the only shoulder I can cry and lean on.
My dad is the literal definition of asshole. He runs the Philadelphian Mafia, and he never gave to fucks about me, ever. My father acted as if I never existed, like he never wanted me as a daughter in the first place. He'd avoid me every time I was around. When I was out of my room, he was in his office or out doing what he does. When I'm in my room, he's everywhere inside the house besides my fucking room.
He won't even spare a glance at my bedroom door, it's ridiculous. The only time he speaks to me is when he's taking me shopping for new clothes for some special occasion such as a party or to brag about how "wonderfully beautiful is daughter is" to his friends.
Other times he treats me like a stranger and that's what I can't help but think he is. Neglection. That's all I feel.
My mother is half the asshole he is. She cares when she wants to and that's rare. I love my mother. She may be half-neglectful but at least she spent time with her child. She was so good of a mother when I was younger. She was always excited about my first days of school, meeting new friends, report cards, and she'd take me out just for fun.
All that stopped when I was in 6th grade. One day I came home happy and excited to be back home with my mom, and when I walked up to her, she mugged the shit out of me. She had a fucking attitude.
I didn't think much of it at first, so I proceeded to ask what I was going to ask. She yelled at me and told me to get the fuck out her face.
To this day I still don't know what happened before I came home.
I had an older brother, but my dad killed him. My older brother was overprotective over me and my dad use to try and kill me but not with weapons such as a knife and gun. He'd use a knife to cut me somewhere and he'd hit me on the side of my head with the barrel of the gun.
One day my older brother got tired of him putting his hands on me so he thought it would be a good idea to stand up to him. My father didn't like it much and "calmly" tried telling him to stop and get out of his office. My brother wouldn't listen, but he continued yelling.
So, my father called me in his office and asked my brother if he had any last words. I didn't know what he meant at first because he's never asked me that before yet alone anyone else I was around...or at least not to my knowledge.
The second my brother turned to look at me with tears in his eyes, I knew something was wrong. He told me he loved me and gave me a kiss on my cheek then forehead. But before I could even say it back my father shot him. He looked at me with his lifeless eyes and after a few seconds of hyperventilating I started screaming, shouting, crying, and kicking.
I was covered in my own brother's blood and my father, my sperm donor, my fucking blood killed his own fucking son.
How could you possibly kill your own child with not even the smallest bit of guilt???
After my brother died in my arms I went to my room and haven't come out since. My mom brings my food to me because she understands why I could never sit at the same dinner table as the person who killed my lifeline.
I have a bathroom in my room, so I kept my hygiene up. I barely ate the food my mom brought to me though. I never have an appetite anymore.
My aunt got evicted from her own home and needed a place to stay a month after my brother's death, so my dad gave her the house and we moved someplace else.
I was happy but upset at the same time. Happy because living in that house taunted me. Upset because the only memories I've ever had with my brother were in that house and I had to leave them all behind.
But since my brother was supposed to be next for mafia boss after my dad, I had to take his spot. I didn't want to, but I also wanted to keep my shitty little life.
My dad has been training me to take his spot. He looked like he didn't want to because apparently, it's not normal for girls to be mob boss, but he doesn't really have a choice in his case.
So here I am sitting on my bed with my blanket wrapped around my slim curvy body as I look out the window and up at the sky.
"I miss you..." I merely whispered.
"Why'd you do it? Why did you always have to go too far just to protect me??" My voice cracks as I continue.
"It's my fault why you're gone...it's my fault why you lost your life at such young age...if it weren't for me, you'd be sitting here next to me right now." A tear slides down my cheek.
"Mommy is still hurt about it, but not as much as me. As a woman, losing your child is hard but you weren't my child but instead my brother. The only person I trusted, the only person I could count on, the only shoulder I had to lean and cry on." A loud sob escapes from my mouth.
"I have less than a year left until I take over dad's crime organization. I'm scared...I know there's no way out of this. But there is and that's death. I don't want to die...not yet. But if I do die, I at least get to see you again." I cry.
"I love you...thank you for protecting me but I wish you wouldn't have never taken it to that level."
A few more tears slide down my cheeks and I get up from my bed and over to my bathroom. I turned on the burning hot water and I let it run until the steam became visible enough to me.
Once I got in the shower, I just stood the letting the burning hot water allowing the boiling hot water to trickle down my curvy caramel body before I started to wash.
When I got out of the shower, I picked out some light blue jeans and a plain black hoodie.
After I pulled up my pants and buttoned them, there was a knock on my door, but I ignored it and walked towards my dresser for some socks.
But whoever was at my door knocked again, "who is it?" I called out.
"Sweetheart, open the fucking door please." A soft yet hard voice responded.
Mommy.
I sighed and opened the door with an annoyed look.
"Your father wants to see you. Fix your face, don't talk back, don't even respond unless it's meant to be responded to, and don't disrespect him in anyway." She laid out for me to understand.
I nodded and let out a loud breath.
Fear. Panic. Fright. Dread. Those four emotions together aren't a good mix right now.
I closed the door and went to sit on my bed to calm down.
