Wrong

Chapter 4

"I have something to say," I speak quietly.

"I'd like to eat. Can't it wait?" My mum complains.

"No." My father speaks sternly. "She's telling us now." His eyes darken as if he knows what I'm about to say.

"Well.." I close my eyes, I don't think I'll be able to handle the thought of seeing their faces when I tell them.

"I'm Pregnant." I brace myself and get ready to start the explanation I've gone over and over in my head.

Everything was dead silent. I open my eyes.

"ARE YOU F***ING SERIOUS, KATELYNN?" My mum screams, I flinch back in fear of her large voice.

My father has a look of pure disgust in his eyes.

"No, let me ex-" I start to shake of nervousness.

"YOU IRRESPONSIBLE LITTLE-" she screams, her face practically on fire.

"Amy. Please." My father sits quietly, not breaking eye contact the entire time.

"I thought you were better than that, Katelynn. I really did." My father stands up and silently leaves the room.

"Can I please just explain?" I stand from my chair, suddenly furious.

"THERE IS NOTHING TO EXPLAIN. I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW YOU HAD A BOYFRIEND, AND NOW YOU'RE SLEEPING AROUND?" She bellows.

"No." I state quietly, yet firmly.

Her eyes close, and she seems to be calming herself down a bit. For a moment I expect her o apologize for not letting me explain.

"Well then, if you're going to go sleep around, then lie to me, then I dont want to be your mother anymore." She says calmly.

What?

"What is that supposed to mean?"

" Leave. You cant live here anymore." she states simply, not an ounce of regret or sadness in her eyes.

"Mum, you cant just-"

"I can. and I am."

"Just let me make some money...?" Tears are threatening to pour down my face.

"No. I want you and your things out by noon tomarrow." she says before turning and walking into the other room.

Tears fell freely down may face. I didn't try to stop them.

This was not what I had planned.

What did I do wrong?

*

Waking up on my bathroom floor, the light from the window shines on my face.

I looked down to my stinging arm, the fresh cuts still a bit shiny from the blood.

The razor sits a few inches away from my hand, and bloody tissues overflow the trash can.

I grab some fresh toilet paper and wipe away the fresh blood from my arm.

Standing up, I see multiple blood streaks on the white bathroom floor. I'm not cleaning that up. They can see how much they hurt me. They made me do it. They can feel the guilt.

I walk into my bedroom, glancing at the clock. It's 8:09 am, so I have until noon to leave. A long sigh leaves my lips as I realize that I will never wake up in this house, or bathroom, for that matter, ever again. The tears fall freely again, and I wipe them from my face.

I slide into old ripped up jeans and an ACDC t-shirt. Running a comb through my hair, I stick my comb and deodorant into my traveling bag.

I know I won't be able to take much, just whatever I am able to fit in a small traveling bag and a backpack.