Laying in his bed, he curls up into a ball while hearing his stepmom and mom fight at the bottom of the stairs. Even with his door shut, he could still hear the sounds of skin against skin and a giant thump sound as if something hit the floor. My eyes widen and I slowly sit up and look at my bedroom door, wondering if maybe I should go check if everything was alright. I used to remember when I was younger when my father used to abuse my mom with the TV remote and the apple charger whenever his football team didn't win. It was awful to look at behind the door way of the kitchen. I remember when my dad left to marry a man, leaving my mother all alone to raise me with no other choice but to marry a woman. Everything was awful until the yelling from downstairs went dead silent.
Looking up and walking towards the door, I can see my stepmom walking down the stairs with her suitcase in her hold. I can see her face filled with sadness and regret as she looks over at all the hung pictures of our memories together as a whole. My mom, her, and me playing in the sand of the shores of Santa Cruz. Stepmom walks all the way down the stairs, stepping towards the door and reaching out to twist open the handle. Stepping out, she closes the door behind her, leaving without saying goodbye.
