Broken Home

When my alarm clock went off that morning, I knew it was going to be a long day. But I had no idea how much my life would change.

I got up and did my normal routine, I washed my face, put on some makeup, brushed my hair, threw on my light pink skater dress, paired with my white converse, ate some
toast that was smothered with Nutella, packed my lunch (a turkey sandwich, an apple, goldfish, and some water), brushed my teeth, and walked to school.

Everything was fine, everything was normal.

Even school was fine, I suppose, my only real highlight was taking a test in history. I know what you're thinking- a test? Your highlight? Well- yeah, I knew the material, so it really couldn't have been easier (history is defiantly one of my strong suits, especially early American history, thanks to Hamilton). Also, a test practically guarantees no homework, and I guess I'm a tad square, so, yeah.  A test. My highlight.

My low point though- my low point was definitely getting home.

My parents, as usual, were yelling at the top of their lungs at each other, and my older brother was God knows where, most likely getting high with his friends.

I hurried from the foyer through the living room, where they were, and into my bedroom.

Their heads didn't turn, I didn't even a sliver of acknowledgement as I rushed through the house. Their eyes were on each other, burning with anger, they were too entrapped in their argument to even notice that their daughter had come home.

I saw a picture frame on the floor, the glass shattered, it had been taken on their wedding day. They looked so happy, so full of joy and excitement. My father's smile was so big it practically covered her entire face, and you could tell my mom had cried from her runny mascara. And their eyes. They were so full of love. So ready for this new adventure together.

Where was all that love now?

I set my things down in my room. Silence fell over the house.  This worried me— as it could mean one of two things. One- they had made up (which was most likely untrue), or two, they had to talk to me for one reason or another, the real, and more threatening prospect.

There was a knock at my door.

I guess they had noticed my arrival.

"Alcie?" I heard my mother's weak, scratched from yelling, voice question.

"Yes, mom?"

"Could you come out here please, darling."

Oh no. Oh please Lord no.

I cautiously pulled open the door. My mother tried to force a smile, but I saw through her facade.  She tilted her head towards the living room so I made my way over to the couch. We sat down and my heart started racing.

"Alcie, sweetheart, there is something we..." she gestured to her and my dad "something we need to tell you. And- there's really no good way to put this, so I'll just be blunt with you. Alcie... your father and I, we- we're filing for divorce."

That was it, that was when the dam broke.

Tears flooded to my eyes, and I started shaking uncontrollably.  I suppose I should have seen it coming. I mean, how long could we have stayed together in this broken home? We were falling apart at the seams.

I managed to get out of the living room and back into my bedroom, though how I couldn't tell you, it was all such a blur. My parents didn't come after me, though. When I came to I was sat on my bed, rocking back and forth. I felt hot tears stream down my face, and I must have gone through at least a full box of tissues.