Tongue Slip

The book.

Sometimes the world becomes a potter and you are the clay. It molds you to whatever it wants you to be. And its up to you to decide if you will stay in the shape it makes up for you are not.

Sometimes I think I did mold myself and sometimes I think the world did mold me.

Its complicated. I am complicated.

Any way , you might be wondering why I'm saying all this... I would be too...
But I'm not.

Truth is, those are not my words,  they belong to some wise persona that meant a lot to me, maybe a lot more than I can tell.... I was just thinking about it.

It would not explain my current situation , feeling or moment but it will most likely distract me into some other scenario.

A soft sigh escapes my lips  for the hundredth time. 

Since Priscilla accepted to bring me back home,  not even a single word has been attered by either of us.

Priscilla was probably afraid that whatever she will say will not be answered or that she would be breaching the line or I'll snap at her.

I, on the other hand, just don't want to. I have nothing to say  , at least not to her.

I watch as the trees fly past as we headed back to town.

I wish I was one of those people who watched and counted trees until they get exhausted and fall asleep.

I sigh again and close my eyes. My fingers slowly rub my forehead and run across my face.

I wish we could get there already. I think to myself.

I just hope dad is no longer there because I am thoroughly exhausted and if he is there I don't think I have anything left to fight him.

I even wonder why I keep up yet there is nothing on me. I have Jo one.

I mean,Spring is having his life all laid out for him. He has his sluts and lives a pretty popular  and good although oblivious lifestyle.
He doesn't even realise anything under his nose like ... Carlie and ...everything else.

And the only other person whom might matter to me does not even notice me either. Roy Knightgaurd.

I sigh again and notice am a few blocks away.

"You can drop me off here." I say and removed my seatbelt.

The car slows and eventually stops.

I open the door and try to get out but Priscilla grabs my hand.

I don't turn but I stay in.

"You have bottled up a lot of stuff and I realise you don't talk to people about what is going on in your life." She whispers to me.

I don't say anything and the only indication that I had heard what she says is my hitched breath.

"I just want you to know that I am here for you," she continues.

I want to interrupt and tell here I don't need anyone to run to. The last time I had let someone in... The cost was too large.

But she beats me to it and shoves a hard bound book into my hands.

"If you can't tell anyone then the least and best you can do is to write it down. Talk to yourself and write whatever you want here. Draw out your fears and strength and expectations and all crappy stuff. " she sighs and seats upright.

Hearing her tell me all that brings up bile in my throat and I feel defensive of my own self. I feel a need to put up my walls higher than they are. I feel like I should explain myself. I feel soo much at the same time.

I let go of the book and it falls on the car floor where my feet were a few minutes ago.

As if she is judging me for who I am she stares and picks it up smiling. I am annoyed and I feel myself flush.

"Be yourself in there and don't he afraid to he judged by others because no one will. " she hand it back.

She suddenly pulls me for a hug and I let her before pulling away.

"Thanks." I say awkwardly as I step out.

I walk away before she drives off.
*******####******@@@@@***

Dad is at home when I get there and I instinctively hide the book under the mat and put my boots on it.

As he calls me I approach him in a total zombie mode. 

He is drunk. A bottle of whisky and shot glasses are played out on the table.

On his mouth hangs one of those huge Mexican cigars.

When he speaks his voice is low and cold. I've heard this tone millions of time that I don't flinch.

He asks of my whereabouts and I decide he is not worth and besides whether or not I tell him , he will still burn me. I therefore opt for silence. 

He talk for a long time and I don't even hear anything because its all in drunk statter.

Finally he roughly pulls me to him and lifts up my shirt and studies my stomach.

Then smiles wickedly. He has found a spot.

I hold my breath as he puts the cigar on me. Just below my navel. The smell of burnt flesh fills the air. He waits alitle more before removing it.

Tears pool in my eyes but I deny him the satisfaction of seeing me broken.

He holds on to me and relights the cigar and watches it burn then again studies my stomach and presses it above my navel. I wince.

"Now seat there and we have a proper father daughter conversation. "He says as if he just discovered that...

Nonetheless. I obey and seat.

****
He talk for mor than an hour simply repeating that I should never again do whatever shit I did last night and that he is leaving, again.

He leaves at midnight a few minutes after Spring gets home drank out of his mind.

I take a few minutes in my room before rushing downstairs and taking the book.

I go back and seat at the edge of my bed. I open the book and stare at its blank page.

The first thing that comes to mind is probably not what it should but I write it anyway.

                       16th.

I'm not sure but I thinkni am suicidal. ׶¶}}

I feel weak and vurnerable and to make it worse.... I let people see this.

So I'll change, you will see...maybe...

Its not too late.
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Author note.

Thanks for reading. Please don't forget to vote and comment.

Please let me know what is in your mind.