You Again

You Again {Short Story}

 
||Authors Note|| 
||Trigger Warnings||
||Mention of Death||
||Mental Illness||

||PRESENT||
||Present Tense||

The turbulence on the plane manoeuvres, causing for concern to arise in the pit of my stomach. Fingernails dig into the cushion, seat rest nearest the window; hoping it calms the arising anxiety. I swallow a lump stuck in the back of my throat, due to a sand storm amidst.
  In order to distract myself, I take a deep breath and peer out the oval window. The ominous sky below and the dark clouds reflect through my brown irises, rain rolling across the thick glass; adding to the anxiety.
Glancing away and sighing in relief when the loud speakers screech, 'We will be landing in Seoul, South Korea in 30 minutes. Please, stay seated and buckled while we land. Thank you.' The pilot said in English, then in Korean.
  Finally! I've been on this plane for far too long. I need to get out, even if the weather is in terrible conditions.
  Korean is my second language as my mother taught me some Korean before—she...before—she...
  My chest aches, the anguish becoming difficult to breathe. I miss her. Pain wounds my heart, screaming for my mother's embrace. Closing my eyes with a squeeze, a silent tear threatens to descend down my cheek—don't you dare let it show, Clairo!

||FLASHBACK||
||Past Tense||

  Dust filled the air in the claustrophobic room, as soon as I walked through the broken screen door and the squeaky wooden door.  
  I dropped my backpack onto the soiled floorboards next to the old couch. The lounge room had a musky aroma to it, with aged curtains and yellow markings on the edges. The couches, pillows and chairs were faded and stained, (we were lucky enough to have two couches with pillows to begin with).
  Floorboards creaked underneath my weight, ambling toward the stand where my mother was placed. Her ashes sat in a glass jar on a wooden shelf in the lounge room. Sunlight beams would hit the mouldy white walls, brushing over the tapestry where she rested. I dusted the pictured frames of my mother and light incense in honour of her memory.
  'Really,' my father signed, 'Do you have to do that now? I'm reading the paper?' He sat in a single armchair with one foot resting on his knee.
  'Sorry.' I muttered and blew out the incense, peering away from him.
   'Not good enough, Clairo,' he said with contempt, 'I wish you had a bit more gratitude. Can't you see I'm trying to look for a job,' he sighed, 'For us. So we don't go hungry.' He peered over his glasses, glaring toward me.
  'I'm sorry, just mum was getting dusty.' I said, putting the duster down.
  My father huffed in response and went back to reading the paper.
  I want, no...I need to tell him! But should I? How can I? I mean, I've got nothing to lose. But should I? I have to...I have to do it!
  'Dad, I need to tell you something important.' I spun around to face him, biting my lip.
  'For God's sake! What now? I'm busy!' He shook his bald head.
  I flinched, like I always do. To tried to ignore his anger, taking a deep breath in. 'A while ago, I...um, signed up to be an exchange student. I...uh, got a scholarship to go South Korea,' I said, staring at the scuff on my old shoes. 'It also won't cost anything.' I added quick, as soon as I peered at my father, his face churned.
  My father huffed, 'So you are going to quit all of your responsibilities then?'
  'No, I...uh, just want to go to school where mum grew up. That's it. I'm not abandoning you.' I said, tears burning my eyes.
   'You are abandoning me!' He raised his voice again and slammed the newspaper onto the coffee table.
  'No, but I'm not—remember, you already abandoned me a long time ago.' I said, eyes glazed with regret due to reminiscing of the past.
   'What? You're being selfish is what you're doing! Were you just going to leave me with all the bills, huh?' His breath reeked of alcohol.
'What—no. I've been the one paying for the rent. Not you. You made sure of that. Remember dad?' I squeezed my eyes shut for a short moment to breathe, waited for the pain to happen.
My father's voice let alone would had shattered any glass in close proximity.
   The lights from above flickered as the glass shattered. Glass shards fell in slow motion, causing cuts and blood gushing everywhere on my body. I brushed over my school uniform and hair with a shaken hand; as if there was glass and blood all over myself, the walls and floor.
  I shook off the imagery of the glass and blood and glanced toward my father's red face. 'I've always paid the bills. You know this. I don't even know why I'm even bothering with you," I muttered underneath my breath, "Dad please, you gotta get your shit together and get "sober".' Moving in the slightest, fear consumed me. However, I took in long and deep breath to calm myself. 
  'Just so you're aware, the school's taking me to the airport tomorrow. Bye—dad.' I said, without looking him in his bloodshot eyes.
  I had an impulse to scream but I didn't. Instead, I grabbed my bag and ran down the short hallway into my room. I banged the wood door shut behind me and exhaled, leaning my back up against the hard surface.
   'Clairo, wait!' my father called from beyond the thin walls.
  I didn't care anymore. I'll be packing my bags all night if I have to. I need to escape. I can't live like this anymore.
  It'll be easy to leave for the bus picking me up tomorrow morning. I knew for a fact, he'll be passed out drunk on the couch snoring. An empty bottle dripping liquid onto the floor, that's exactly what had happened.