The 13 Years Of A Cliche Coward

Chapter 1

Dejection, that's how I describe my first 13 years. Painful, depressing, and useless. I always expected my mother to be kind, nice, and upbringing. Because I'm the cliche coward of the family, she was never a mother to me. Yes she gave birth to me but no... She didn't raise me.
I was 8 years old the first time I wanted to leave.
"Just tell her exactly how you feel," my dad said early Wednesday morning,"pretend I am your mom. I will tell you exactly what she will say."
I have never seen my parents together in one room without them almost killing each other. They got a divorce before I could even walk. My mom had partial custody of me and my older brother. We would spend Wednesday through Saturday with our mom and Sunday through Tuesday with our dad.
"Hey mom I was wondering if we could talk," I said trying not to laugh at my dad, "I wanted to ask you if it's ok if I live with my dad."
"Well why would you want to do that. Do you not love me?" My dad said in a high pitched voice.
"No mom of course I love you but, the thing is I just feel more comfortable at my dad's house."
"You are only 8 years old you don't know what's good for you yet."
" I'm scared dad" I confessed
"You will be fine. Just tell her exactly how you feel. Remember don't sugar coat it, she is a grown woman she can take it. Now get you backpack we don't want to be late."
My dad or step mom would always drop my brother and I off at school Wednesday mornings. Then after school our mom would pick us up. I was used to going back and forth between two houses so I never really minded. Just today was one of the days I do mind. I didn't want to tell my mother how I felt. I know it wouldn't end well.