“She’ll never amount to anything!” I heard my mother yell as I hid behind the tall wooden door of my bedroom, “Your just putting fanaticises in her head! She’ll never be a musician. She’s not even that good.”
“Ruby is an amazing guitarist!” My father rawed back at her, “She is more talented than you know.”
Give me silence; I’d take that over the constant yelling of my family any day. I’d rather be deaf and sacrifice the beautiful sound of music than put up with another scream session between my parents. I’d rather swallow daggers than have to listen to their venom filled tones of hate constantly finding faults with each other and taking it out on whoever is closest to them. It shouldn’t be like this, should it? Shouldn’t all nineteen year olds be out having fun not locking themselves in there room to hide from the world of pain that surrounds them?
I grabbed my IPod and shoved the headphones in my ears; I didn’t want to hear their arguing anymore, I was over it. I had told my parents that my band was going to go tour in Queensland for a bit to build up our fan base more but as usual, mum didn’t like the idea and went off on her usual speech that musicians are trash and that I’ll never do anything with my life.
As I looked up at my walls plastered with my heroes a tear escaped my eye, had their parents been supportive to them or were they like my mum and hated everything they did? Mum never liked anything I did, weather it was good grades or just hanging out in my room, I was a waste of space in her eyes.
I was so sick and fed up with it; I needed to get out of this place so badly.
I grabbed only my IPhone which was still in my ears and headed downstairs to the sound of my parents still yelling over my music. I quickly ran out of the house into the cold air of the dark suburban streets. There was a soft yet chilly wind blowing giving me goose bumps and sending chills up my spine. Dark shadows loomed around the lamp post and around the corners.
I could hear families in the houses watching TV or listening to music. I could hear their laughter and there cries of happiness. I wished that I was a part of their family. I could smell there roast dinners in the oven and hungered for a family dinner where we talked and smiled rather than out awkward dinners.
A gust of wind sent my long black hair flying, I dove my hands into the pockets of my oversized red hooded jumper to escape from the chill. I flicked my choppy side fringe out of my blue eyes. My eyes felt gritty and disgusting, I couldn’t see. I stopped for a second and flicked out my contacts and put on my thick black glasses that were tucked into the back of my tight black jeans.
I came across a small park that I used to play in as a child with my mum and dad. I was empty and abandoned at this time of night. The swings swung eerily on their rusted chains as crunchy autumn leaves blew over the slippery dip and mixed with the choppy bark chips on the ground. The tall oak trees swayed in the breeze making the only noise. The bright colours of the plastic reminded me of brighter times in my family.
My mum would play on the swing opposite of me and I would giggle as my dad pushed me higher and higher into the clear blue shining sky. My natural brown wavy hair would fly through the wind and I’d squeal with happiness as I reached out to touch the sun. One day we came and it had rained the night before making it slippery and I fell off the slid onto the harsh wood chips, my mum immediately ran over to me and swept me up in the biggest hug imaginable not long after my father had joined in. Even though I was in pain I’d never felt more happy or loved in my life.
I snapped out of my daydream as light sprinkles of rain began to fall from the sky like tiny diamonds. Had there ever been a moment like this or had I imagined it? I can’t remember another time we’d been this happy together, it was too long ago.
