There will be days, days where you wake up, roll out of bed, and you’re slapped by a force of negativity. For me that was everyday, especially today. I crawled to the bathroom to begin a morning routine I’ve come to know all too well. Greeted by my parents in the usual manner, a few insult and maybe if I’m lucky, a slap or two. Splashing warm water in my face I grimace at swollen lip that was gifted to my by my father, early last night. Coming home in a drunken stoop and beating me seem to be his main hobby. Mum was more for insults, sometimes they switch it up though. I have a theory they played rock papers scissors when I was born to see who got what. I hear a series of grunts amit from the living room before I’m givin’ my morning love. “Hey stupid.”
Oh goodie, dad’s awake.
“Morning asshole” I respond, sticking my head out the bathroom door and sarcastically smiling at him, “Hung over, I hope?”
“Shut it, you good for nothing.” He groans in response. Woah, my families creative right? You can see why my mum is the verbal one. I go back to the mirror, poking at my lip once more before I begin to brush my teeth. That’s when I hear dad push himself off the couch. I kicked the door shut and lock it quickly, not wanting to repeat last night. That’s when the banging starts, this knuckle rapping against the wood of the door.
“Open the door, I have to pee.”
“That’s what sinks are for, Richard.” I call out, refusing to call him my ‘dad,’ because dad don’t beat their kids. “I do recall we have one in the kitchen.” I finish in the bathroom and wait by the door, for the moment where he’ll walk away and I’ll sneak off into my room.
Hearing him stalk off and take the chance. Making it to my room and silently closing the door, I slide on my jeans and a black shirt, plus the usual baggy sweatshirt. Grabbing my backpack, I make for the laptop had hidden in my underwear drawer. I had spent months saving for it and I sure as hell wasn’t letting my parents know I had one, except it wasn’t there. I whip my bedroom door open so fast Flash himself would be proud. “Where is my laptop” I roar only to be rewarded by laughter from both parents.
“I’m serious! What did you do with it. You tell me right now, god dammit!” I march down the hall towards them, now would be a good time to tell you I have pretty severe anger management issues. “I want my fucking computer and I want it right fucking now. That is my property dammit.” Bellowing, I round into the ratty room we call a kitchen.
Sandra sits in front of the old tv, watching the news. God knows why, I doubt she understands anything they’re saying. Richard stands by the fridge, scratching his ass while he looks for food. Dear god, how did I come out of those two, in a fantasy land I’m adopted and my billionaire biological parents will swoop in and save me.
“Look, guys.” I moan, pinching the bridge of my nose with two fingers. “I have school, not that you care, and need that computer for my assignments.”
“I sold it” Sandra pipes up, not even looking away from the screen of the retro tv. “I got 500 bucks for it!”
“You didn’t” I mumbled, my body going numb. “Bullshit, you’re bluffing. Why would you need to sell my laptop.”
“We didn’t need to do anything.” Richard grunts, finally closing the door of the fridge. “It’s just nice to have pocket change, here.”
Twenty dollars. He handed me twenty dollars, like it was going to make up for everything. “Are you kidding me. Are you fucking kidding me?” I wail “I spent months saving up for that, and you sold it!? I had it for maybe two weeks, how did you even know where it was? Snooping through my shit now, huh!?” Both my “parents” turn to look at me, and Richard gives me a swift backhand.
