I've Got You

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Before I reached the top of the stairs, I knew something was wrong. There wasn't any snoring or yelling followed by hungover shushes. I tiptoed down the staircase, and was met by a nightmare. I mean, I knew that my parents had been up late last night - but I never imagined this.

The floor was covered in beer cans. My dad was slouched over the arm of the couch, face pressed up against the glass side table in a drunken slumber. My mom was sitting on the floor, arm resting up on the coffee table. She'd faceplanted into the crook of her arm. I gathered the best way to sneak out. If I stepped between the cans, I would be able to get out without making too much noise. I slipped my shoes off and crept towards the door. I heard a small noise. Turning my head, my mom was awake. Oh no.

"Brad. BRAD," she began to raise her voice, trying to arouse my dad. "BRAD, WAKE UP. WAKE UP. IT'S TRYING TO FUCKING RUN." My dad rolled to his left, now laying comfortably on his back. Still asleep.

"BRAD, WAKE UP! IT'S TRYING TO LEAVE." She slapped her hand on her face, rubbing her fingers over her clearly aching head. I hoped it hurt. Attempting to stand up, she raised a finger and lowered her voice.

"You. You little brat. You will go NOWHERE." I became angry. What if I'd wanted to go somewhere? I mean, the bag was still sitting under my window.

"Oh yeah? And who's going to stop me?" I replied. This was the most resistant I'd ever been to any of this mess.

"I -" her sentence was interrupted by a brief hiccup, "I will not stop you. But when you come back, that's what will stop you from ever going anywhere else." I was scared now. But it was too late.

"Well, maybe I won't come back! What do you think about that, huh?" I was really going too far. And I knew it. But I'd never said anything before, because I'd never had to stand up against her or my dad before - I'd never had the guts. She sat back on her heels, contemplating.

"If you do, so help you god, kid." She slumped to the floor, getting comfortable among the empty can clutter. "Actually, no." she began speaking again from her position on the floor. "I wouldn't fucking care. You're just some reject anyways, right? We could save some money on your ass." That one hurt.

"Bitch." I muttered under my breath. Her eyes popped open. I was in trouble now. She slowly raised herself back up onto her heels, and in a swift motion began picking up and chucking the beer cans at me.

"What did you call me, you little shit!?" She shrieked. The beer cans were flying over my head, but I ducked out of habit. I threw my shoes down on the floor, stomped my feet into them, and ran to the steps. I climbed them two at a time. My heart was pounding in my chest. It was time for me to get out of here. I ran into the bathroom and slammed the door. I locked it up, sat on the toilet seat, and released huge, racking sobs from my otherwise frail body. I contemplated on what to do next. I needed to get out for real. This was not a house for me - or anyone, for that matter.

I splashed water on my face and looked up at my reflection. I looked tired and worn out. I looked about ready to drop. I was scared, and unsure. But I needed to take this opportunity to make a life for myself.

I unlocked my door, tearing it open and fleeing to my room. She was on her hands and knees, attempting to crawl the stairs to fling more cans and inflict more damage. I slammed my bedroom door, ran to the window, and threw it open. I chucked the duffel out the window and swung myself into the tree outside. The door was thrown open just as my body left the house. I was clinging onto the tree, hoping I wouldn't fall to my eminent death. I slid down the trunk, praying I'd live to feel the ground beneath my feet. I hadn't left my house like this in a few weeks. There was a semifamiliar thud beneath my feet, and my ankles ached from impact. I grabbed the bag and ran.

My keys were jingling in my pocket. I didn't realize how close I was to my car until I slammed into it by accident. Shakily, I reached in and pulled the keys out of my pocket and unlocked the car. I threw my duffel bag into the passenger seat and hopped into the car. Taking a deep breath, I turned the engine on and backed out of the driveway. This was my life. My turn to make things right. Not their life, and not their turn to make it right. They'd failed too many times.