I Wrote This For You

2

Sienna's body was very close to mine. I could see the detail in her hazel eyes. I could smell the shampoo in her hair. It was oranges. That smell brought me euphoria. I think Sienna has been using the same soap for the past 8 years. She's been to afraid to switch because then she would loose her signature.
She turned her face to mine, her glossy lips against my ear.

"It's probably best that I go home, I'm sure I'll see you tomorrow"

And that's when she left me. Her warmth left my arm, and her shadow slid off of the roof. I heard a thud as she landed on the ground. The rustling of dead grass drifted to the house across the street. The faint sound of a doorbell. The slam of a window, and the opening of a door. Then she was gone.
My phone said it was 8:26. I knew that in about 4 minutes my dad would lock the door, whether I was in the house or not. Since Finn's death it's come to the point where I don't exist as their child. Within these past months my parents have left me outside the whole night, gone on vacation without me, and have forgotten to cook dinner for me when I was unable to do so myself. Family dinners don't consist of me anymore, it's just my parents.
I slid off the roof and landed in a bush. It was one of my mothers treasured mulberries. I stepped out of the flattened shrub, and continued my way into the sullen house. My dad sat at the table with an empty black garbage bag, while my mom dragged an overflowing one to the garage.

""What's going on?"

Silence.

"Hey! What's going on?"

Silence. My dad sighed and turned his head away.

"Dad? What. Is. going. on?"

He rolled his eyes and responded, his voice was monotone and displeasing.

"We cleaned your room."

"You what? You went in my room! What did you touch?"

I ran as fast as I could up the stairs. I grabbed my door handle, the cold metal causing my hand to go frigid. The door swung open and hit the wall. The noise the door made could never amount to how much noise my anxious heart was making. The room was practically empty. The walls had been stripped of color, the sheets of my bed had been ripped off in a violent manner. My desk had been emptied.

My desk had been emptied.

All the papers that had been lying on my desk were gone. All my work, my writings and drawings were gone. That garbage bag my mom was dragging was full of my dreams, and now they are gone.
I threw myself down the hallway, and rushed down stairs. The anger in my voice was the only thing you could hear.

"Who do you think you are?! That is my job you just tossed!"

"You need to get a real job. Coloring with crayons is not a job." My fathers voice was deep and collected.

Unlike my voice, it was shaky and broken,"Are you fucking deaf? You threw away work that I was supposed to send to a publisher! I was making money!"

"Sammy, get a grip, no one would buy your work." My mom didn't even look me in the eyes.

Since Finn died, the house had slowly started to loose its friendliness. The paint on the walls was ugly, the kitchen lights were dim, and the people living in it were practically dead. My parents were sucking the life and color out of my existence. I'm so powerless, I'm so powerless.
I screamed, smacking my hands against my forehead with force. The frustration and anger building up again. I opened the garage, the only thought I had was to retrieve my things and leave. The garage was empty except for: my car, and my art and writings. I looped the trash bag with my work around my wrist and pulled it over my shoulder. I popped my trunk and stuffed everything inside.

I was done, it was over. I was done, I'm over it. My family is killing me. They don't speak to me, they won't look at me, they refuse to feed me. I am nothing. I am nothing. Finn was everything.

"I'm leaving. I'm moving out."

There was nothing in my room anyways. I had been moving stuff into a friends house for the past month or so. We planned on moving in together once college started. There was nothing keeping me here.

"Now?"

"Yes."

"No!" My mother cried, she only wanted me here because then she would have someone to take her anger out on.

"Margo! Let him leave. It's finally time we get rid of him. You were a waste of my time, kid. Now your brother, your brother was worth it."

My arm flinched, and I unconsciously raised my fist towards my dad and punched him. He fell backwards and hit his head on the counter. The adrenaline that was surging through my body had all been transferred to my Father's face. The anger I had for him was dripping out of his nose, landing on the ground in red puddles.

"Damn, that felt good" I whispered.

My body was shaking, I felt as if my body temperature had dropped suddenly. My stomach was flipping and I was nauseas. Making my way to my car was the hardest thing for me in that moment. I kept wanting to turn back, to think that maybe this was a bad dream. To think that maybe Finn was in his room, and my dad actually cared. But when I turned around, my dad yelled,

"It should've been you! It should've been you!"

I screamed, and screamed to drown out his voice. I got into the car and started it, and pulled out right into his lawn. I revved the wheels for about a minute or so, just so I made sure I kicked up some grass, then I drove away. I was gone, flying down the open road. My neighborhood far behind me. Everything was far behind me.