Drugs & Dior

Chapter 5

Angela

Cooper and I weren't alone for long. The peace was shattered a few days ago when our mom and dad returned without Emmy.

_______
A few days earlier

"Where's Emmy?" I ask as my parents stumble into the room, blackout drunk.

"Gone," my dad laughed in my face. His disgusting breath flooding my senses, it makes me gag. Then the words he says fall into place in my brain and my earth is shattered. The ground beneath me opens up and I feel myself falling into the depths of the earth.

"Gone?" I ask. "Wh—what do you mean gone?" I ask.

"G.O.N.E," my mom spells out with a laugh. "Gone!" She sounds so ecstatic to have lifted the burden of having a baby from her shoulders, even though I'm the one doing everything for that baby.

"Mom," I say, tears flooding my eyes. I put both of my stretched out arms on her shoulders. We make eye contact. "What did you do to her?"

"Oh, hush," my mom says with an eye roll. "As if you didn't hate her."

"I don't hate her," I growl.

"I heard what you would say to her," she says. "I heard how you begged her to and I quote 'please shut uppp' and had to restrain yourself from hitting her, I saw everything."

"Yet you didn't help," I say. "You forced your daughter to take on the responsibility of watching your baby."

"Well, now you don't have to worry about that," my dad says with a grin as he plops himself down on the couch.

My mother laughs and nods her head. "Yup, your free, enjoy it."

I feel my face harden, the tears aren't coming anymore, it's all just stone cold anger. "Mom," I say through clenched teeth. "What did you do to her?" I ask ever since slowly.

"We gave her away," my mom says breaking free from my grip and making her way over to the couch. "Some nice couple who couldn't have their own baby was open to adopting but didn't have enough money to do it legally, so we gave her ours. None of us wanted her anyway."

Panic floods my senses. "Did you check to see if they were safe? If she would live a good life there? There's a reason they can't do it legally," I scream. "You can't just give away your child!"

"Young lady, you better watch that tone! And don't yell so loudly, I have a headache," my dad says, turning on the TV. How can he afford a TV but not dinner for his children. What a silly question, it's not about what he can and can't afford it's about how he doesn't care about any of us enough to try.

"Yeah, because your going out partying instead of taking care of the children you made!" I yell, infuriated by his disinterest. "I never wanted to be a mother! I'm just a kid," tears prick my eyes. "Yet I'm locked in this f*cking pit of a house, it's always filthy, never safe, unable to do whatever it is teenagers do these days, because I'm too focused on YOUR kids!"

"Now you—"

Before he can finish his sentence, I scream. A blood curdling, desperate scream. Nothing I say will change these people, nothing I do will change them. They will be like this forever, and I have to deal with it. I scream again, trying to release the pent up frustration. Trying to gain the years of pain and suffering back with this one thing.