I sat in the office for the third time this week. Only this time my father was sitting beside me, looking at me with disappointment. Like I was the biggest screw up in the world, but he didn't know the half of it.
The parties, the beer, the drugs, the sex. He didn't know about any of them. Or the ditching, the abuse, the bullies. He doesnt know why, none of them do. None of them care.
"Why?" he asked as I climbed into the car.
"It's nothing." I shrugged.
"Three times in a week is not nothing."
"The first time the teacher was just in a bad mood, and saw my stating a fact as rude. The second was self defiance, this was an accident." I said each like it was just that, but I knew better. I knew none of it was truly as I told, but I couldn't say that. I was going out tonight, it was a big party.
"This can't keep happening-"
"and it wont!" I snapped in exasperation. I didn't have time for this, I had to finish my homework and get ready for the party.
"Your grounded."
"What?" I had never been grounded, mom had seen it as stupid and dad hadn't had a reason to.
"You are grounded. No more going out."
I slammed my bed room door, grabbing grampas old pocketknife that he'd given me the year he died. I held it to my wrist, sliding it slowly.
I watched as the crimson liquid sprouted from the now burning spot, but it wasn't enough. I was still angry.
