Disgusting

Disgusting I

I always see her like this, my mom. She always says things that don't make any sense whatsoever. She always makes it seem like she knows what she's doing. I want to escape from my parents' grip on my life. They control everything I do, everywhere I go. I hate it. They always say, "I'm doing what's best for you." Never had they told me that I would be happy. Everyday is the same; I wake up, make breakfast for them and myself, go to school, never late to be home, make dinner, spend some time on homework or something productive - or at least try, take a shower, then go to sleep. That is my life. My parents have never done anything more than multiple slaps with a belt. That was about to change since I was heading to high school.

As my first day of high school started, I tried to find a club to be in. I wanted the excuse to not be home any longer than I usually did. I tried out for basketball, not my thing. I did the same with chess and soccer. Both not my thing. Apparently, volleyball was for me. I never really played it before, considering the scars and bruises on my arms and body, arms most importantly. I would have to be careful about that now. Most girls on the team didn't seem to like me. Only two girls accepted me as a player. They were Monica and Katelyn. They were really good at the sport, but not as good as the others. The others looked a bit vicious while playing the sport. I guess it's to scare the opponents. I didn't really know what else to do for the rest of the day. All we did today was introduce ourselves and try to be friends with others. I didn't have good luck when it came to finding partners. First, someone was not here on the first day of school, making the class an odd number. I didn't understand the exercise because people would just go with their friends to chat with when the main goal was to meet someone new. What I also don't understand is why we still do this. I've been doing this since fifth grade and not much has changed.

The day passed and I was soon at home. As I expected, my dad was drinking on the couch. He sat there, staring blankly at the TV. It was the only source of light in the room. His stomach was showing under his dirty shirt. It was disgusting to look at, but I've seen this everyday now. I'm used to it, sadly. There was still no sight of my mom yet. She's probably in the room, doing something, I don't want to say.

"Make dinner! Me and your mother are starving," he yelled. 'Your mother and I,' I corrected in my head. If I said that out loud, then he would hit me and say "You think you're smart?" It happened to me once when I corrected him when he said the same thing in fifth grade. That taught me not to correct him anymore.

I hurried into the kitchen after I took my shoes off. I could feel his eyes stabbing into my back. Disgusting. Opening the fridge, I only found a box of tomatoes, a lime, some eggs, a bag of sausages, two butter sticks, and bottles of water. I guess I have to make omelets... again. We've been eating omelets for two days now, they'll probably get me for this. Grabbing everything I needed, I started to cook. I didn't get so far into making an actual egg when my dad smelt it.

"Eggs? Again? Make something else!" He stood up, looking like he was going to attack me. He was heading towards me for an explanation.

"This is all we have," I tried to say bravely. He looked at me like I was stupid.

"Then go to the damn store! God! Why do we have to have such a stupid kid?" He mumbled the last part as he walked out of the kitchen. I was actually surprised when he didn't threaten to hit me. Maybe he's planning something later. As far as I know, my self conscious was always right. I felt a shiver run down my spine at the thought of something bigger than a slap on the face. I was happy to hear that I had to get out of the house.

The cold breeze hit my face. It was horrible. I hate the cold and they made me come out here to get more food. I would call them ungrateful, but I don't have the heart to say that. Plus, they'll beat me if I do. I was really close to the store - I could see it from where I'm standing. The only thing that's making this trip longer is the damn cold. It tortures me to walk out here in the cold air, but I have to.