I Want to Die in New Orleans // $uicideboys

33: Here We Go Again

The new Cadillac already began to have an interior scent of cigarettes.
"Might have to get y'a a car freshener," I poked at Scrim as he chauffeured me to my car.
"Whatever you say, Shawty," His eyes began to crease as he was amused by my remark.
We slowly crept up to my vehicle as I unbuckled myself from the car. I could feel Scrim stare at me in my peripheral vision, I dodged his gaze unsure of any thought he had in his mind at the moment. The car halted and I grabbed my bag that was resting at my feet.
"..You gonna come back?" Scott's words silently broke from within his chest.
I looked at him with a smile, "Don't I always" as I closed the door.
He didn't leave my sight until I was in my car parting ways with him. My stomach began to twist as I drove myself back to my home. As if my emotions weren't already becoming a heavy burden on me, Scott's efforts to keep me a part of his life created a riptide that engulfed my feelings.
There was a profound sense of hopelessness that sat in the pit of my stomach. I'd find myself driving somewhere that isn't home, while deciding whether to split or stick with Scott. My car slowly strolled down the street, catching a glimpse of a truck in the driveway of my house.
"Great," I whispered to myself as I lowered the volume of my music.
"I'll b back in forty," I texted Scott, to which he replied instantly, "Come any time shorty,"
My decision to go back was abrupt but if it's being with the boys or being.. here, I'd rather be with them. The car slowly rolled to a stop, I gathered my thoughts as I put the vehicle in park and got out. Each stride I created was unintentionally accompanied by a pause as I dwelled towards the door. I turned the handle and opened the door, my uncertainty leading me into the home. Lights peaked around the corner into the hall leaving the living room lit up for me to trail into.
My eyes analyzed the room, falling upon a figure that sat on the sofa with a glass in front of them.
"A lil early," I confidently created the conversation though my words were intertwined with unsettlement.
"Me being back or the drink," My father responded.
"Both," I answered.
There was an unspoken tension that lingered in the air, making me itch my palms and shift in place. His face was forward, not once glancing at me. He leaned his weight forwards and gripped the glass, throwing the rest of the alcohol to the back of his throat.
"Well you look like shit," He said with an exhale of content that shocked me.
"Excuse me?" I said as my eyes became inflamed. I began to trudge to my room, my mind instantly guiding me to pack my shit and leave, though it was dumb of me to believe he wouldn't keep up the harassment like he used to.
His footsteps carried behind as he rambled about something inaudible to me. When he finally reached my room I could clearly hear what his tangent was about, causing more anger to build up. The extremes of emotions that kept pushing and pulling were getting the best of me.
"I see you on a fuckin picture online and you look gone out of your fucking mind. You just graduate and you're eating my pills out the fucking cabinet, staying who knows where when I trusted you with this house,"
His words drilled cavities in my skull as I threw clothes into bags along with perfumes, makeup, shoes and other accessories.
"Now you can't say anything? You fucking burnt or something? Jesus Christ we should've aborted y.."
"Who's we?" I shouted as I vigorously zipped suitcases up, "There was no y'all, she left yo dumbass cause you're the addict so hop the fuck off of me for real, like where the fuck were you??" I yelled as I turned to finally meet his eyes, "You don't know what the fuck going on with me, i almost died and you were where huh? What the fuck I thought."
He stood there for a second until a sudden burst of sharpness and a shattering echo rang through the air. I hung there for a moment in utter disbelief followed by a sting of pain radiating from my temple. His liquor glass laid half broken on my bedroom floor as I instantly felt the welp grow on my forehead.
"Stupid bitch." He scoffed. "We could've had a nice conversation.. You just make shit so hard, I come here to look out for you because you can't be responsible, just a junkie who is uncontrollable, you look disgusting. and you treat me like this? Because you're the little crackhead here chasing the streets and 'almost dying.' Just wait til the day you do."
"We never coulda had a nice conversation," I said as I tried to pick myself up, hazy from pain. I stood up and began to stack my bags onto my suitcase, rolling them towards my door frame, "Now back the fuck up before i make sure you and none of these other mother fuckers can breath to wrong me again," I barked at him, although cringe sounding I meant every last word.
"So scared," He whispered sarcastically.
I pushed past him as my head pounded and my body shook. The burning resentment trailed through the house as I made my way out in a haste. I threw my bags in the trunk of my car then made my way to the front seat, quickly starting my car and backing out of the driveway.
"Otw." I tested scrim.
"I'm waiting," He replied, which pressed a slight smile on my face.
Seconds later my eyes poured as my chest began to have a constricting sensation. The sharp discomfort in my head hadn't dulled, all making it challenging for me to drive. I tried my hardest to focus on getting to the boys house but my thoughts pointed to all things pessimistic.
I felt hopeless in my choices. To say my father brought me down would be a lie, he just confirmed my every thought to be true. I had no choice at this point but to live with them. The only thing I could do would be to change me. Which I plan on.
Eventually I would end up in the driveway of Scott and Ruby's house, letting some time pass as I tried to gather myself together. I got out of my car and unloaded it, then let myself in. The doors were closed to their rooms, I was relieved, my first cognition was to go shower. I slipped into the bathroom with one of my bags, leaving the rest of the others and my suitcase in the hall to let them know I made it here if they walked out.
I do look terrible.
I told myself in the mirror, looking at the smeared makeup and bloody lump on my head. My hair was ratted and the bags under my eyes were sunken into my cheeks. I let out a sigh as I undressed and ran the steaming hot water. I let the water engulf me, releasing all my contemplations and regrets for another time.