Seriously Screwed Up

Chapter 2- Home Sweet Home

I was greeted by the stale rotten stench of beer and sweat as I walked into my house.

"ALICE, GET YOUR ASS IN HERE RIGHT NOW" Maurice yelled. I pretended to not hear and sneak by the living room where he was sitting in his disgusting recliner. I ran up the stairs.

"ALICE, IF YOU DON'T-" I cut him off with the sound of my door slamming. I locked it tight, sighed and plopped myself on my bed. I could hear him banging on my door. I groaned and turned over to see my orange tabby cat, Garfield. Ironic I know. I petted his soft fur. "OPEN THIS DAMN DOOR RIGHT NOW," Maurice bellowed. I just rolled my eyes and put on my pajamas. If you can call them that. More like a sweatshirt of my favorite group 21 pilots and Aeropostale sweats. He was still knocking. Whatever. I grabbed my laptop and my earbuds from the desk and snuggled under my sheets.

"When your mom gets home you're in big trouble. You don't listen. You lesbian piece of shit." The sound of his beer bottle breaking on my door was deafening. I flinched.

I try to block all this shit out of my life but it never works. Ever since my mom married Maurice, she's changed. We used to be really close. Ice cream every Saturday afternoon and shopping every Sunday. I could tell her anything. It was always us against the world. But she lost her job and became desperate to find work to provide for me. My college fund. My prom dress. My graduation. Even basic things like food and a house. Sometimes I think it's my fault. I didn't really mind living in an old apartment. As long as she was there. But it was never good enough for her. So when a handsome rich young man came along... It was so hard for her to resist. At home he's a pain in the ass. He just adds to my hectic crazy life. But in public he's a great Christian man with a wonderful family living the American dream. If you didn't know me you would think I was a spoiled teen that went to a good private school with the most expensive clothes. The only reason I wear the clothes I have is because Maurice says I have to look "presentable". After I came out to both of them, they purposely buy me the most girly clothes they can find. She acts so different around him. If he yells at me she stands there and agrees with him. It's the same every day.

"ALICE GET DOWN HERE YOUR MOTHER'S HOME" Maurice yells from downstairs. Oh great. I didn't even do anything. Let's just get this over with. I rolled my eyes and walk downstairs.

"What do you want?"

"Honey, look at this disaster you've made. She disrespects me and never listens. Get her in check."
"I don't know who you think you're talking to, asshole" I snarled back at him.

"See? Disrespect" He grinned as if he had just proven something.

"Alice, you're grounded. Be more respectful." She tried to make a disappointed face at me, but she knew I was right. If I looked close enough I could see the sadness and frustration in her eyes.

"That's what I thought, bitch." He chugged the rest of his beer then threw it at my head. It missed my arm by an inch. My mom and I flinched at the same time.

"Clean it up, mutt... and while you're at it get me a new one from the fridge." I looked at my mom hopeful for some pity. I looked into her eyes to see if I could find my old mom.

"Clean it up," she softly whispered.

Of course not. Never on my side.

But I didn't clean up the mess. Usually I would for the same reason I did anything around here. For my mom's sanity. She was the reason I hadn't killed myself yet. She was the reason I hadn't run away before. She was the reason. But I know she wasn't on my side anymore. I just wish I had seen it sooner.

So what do I have to lose?

I don't have lots of friends. My crush doesn't like me and Josh would get over it. If I was being honest the only "person" I would miss was my cat. So I went upstairs, ignoring Maurice yelling at me to clean it up, and locked myself in my room. I didn't care how many bottles he threw at my door or what names he called me. It didn't matter because by tomorrow he wouldn't have to deal with me.

I grabbed the knife I kept hidden in my drawer and laid down on my bed. Garfield jumped on my bed and fell asleep on my pillow. I stared up at my wall. I don't know how long I stared at it. It could've been minutes. It could've been hours. Hell, it could've been a day. I didn't cry or get angry. Most people write a letter to everyone in their life before they die. But I didn't. It was pointless. I just... laid there emotionless.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I took the knife and slowly ran it up both my arms. It hurt. A lot. But this physical pain would stop all my emotional pain in just a few moments. All I had to do was take it to my neck. So I did. I took it to my neck and cut and drew a long cut across the front. I flinched. I felt light headed. Then the blood really started to flow to create a pool of blood around me.

It was my own personal hell.