Why Me?

Chapter One

            Have you ever had that feeling of wishing you were in another world? Your own world where you can do whatever you want? I basically have that feeling every day. Sometimes I feel that I’m safer when I’m out on the streets than at my house. My parents are cruel, ignorant and get there fun out of beating me. Sometimes because I prove something wrong from them, whenever I’m late home, or for doing something wrong. When my friends see me, most of the time I have bruises on my face or arms. One time my dad even broke my arm for yelling back at him. Imagine what would happen to me for spilling my food on the floor at home.

            My mom doesn’t really hit me. That’s mostly my dad’s part. But one thing my mom does is call me names, make fun of me and makes me do her chores. My parents never do housework, I do all of that. My mom is the one who does the cooking though. But she’s not too good at it. She burns nearly everything. But my dad always eats it anyway. He doesn’t want to waste the food. He especially doesn’t want to waste money. All of my clothes are old clothes I have to get from people who donate them. All my room is, is a plain room with one bed and no window. And it’s incredibly small; the bed takes up about half of it. But when my dad does use his money, he only uses it on himself and my mom. For example, they would go out to eat while I would stay at home either cleaning or eating whatever was left of the food we had the day before.

            I don’t wish I had different parents, they still are my birthparents. I just wish they would change. But sometimes I do wish I could runaway. I could live in peace and live life the way I wanted it. But for now, I guess this is the way it’s going to be for a while. But let me say one thing, my parents cannot live without me, literally. Since they never clean or pretty much do anything, they need someone to do it for them. They may not be old, my mom had me at 17, but there is just one word to describe them. Lazy. They are just lazy and if they don’t have anyone there, they basically cannot survive.

Chapter Two

            My name is Ronald Benson, but everyone calls me Ron. I am 16 years old and I was born here in Philadelphia. I am an only child so I do get lonely sometimes. I may not have siblings but I have the two best friends anyone could have, Eric and Maria. Eric was also born here in Philadelphia. He is tall and skinny has blond short hair and is a great student. He gets straight A’s every time. Maria is an illegal Mexican immigrant. It’s amazing that she trusts us so much that she would tell us that. She is fluent in both English and Spanish and the good thing is that I love it when she talks in Spanish.

            My parents really don’t care where I go or with who as long as I come home on time. Today I went out with Eric and Maria and my parents said that I should be back around 7:00pm. We went over to the movies and after that we went out for some ice cream.

            “What time is it,” I ask Eric.

            “It’s 5:00pm,”he responded. “What time you got to be home?”

            “Around seven, besides I still got two hours”

 Maria looked at me and frowned. “Yeah but I still can’t understand why your parents give you curfews, your 16 for God sakes. Your parents are so strict.”

            After that, we just sort of walked and talked. We talked about school, other people and even my parents. But when we were talking about my parents I remembered I had to be home by seven.

            “Oh My God, what time is it?” I looked at a clock inside a store and I saw it was 7:25pm

            “Oh Shit!” I said goodbye to my friends and started running like I was Maria being chased by a Border Patrol Officer. It took me about 5 minutes to get home and I run up the stairs of my apartment building. Once I got to my apartment door, I was too scared to open the door. I had no choice. I opened the door and I found my dad sitting on the couch watching Wheel of Fortune with a beer in his hand. I could tell that they ate without me because I could smell the burnt chicken. My mom was sitting in the kitchen looking at my dad like as if she was saying “what are you waiting for.” My dad turned off the T.V. and got of the chair. He stood for a second as he finished his beer. After he took the last sip he just stood there some more. I was terrified, that meant that something really bad was coming. After about a minute of them just standing, I slowly started to walk towards my room when all of a sudden my dad raised his arm and he threw the empty bottle at me. It would have hit me if I wouldn’t have ducked but I was now lying on the floor as my dad started to walk towards me.