The Freak

Chapter 10: Fights

Chapter 10:

Fights

It was all my fault, I remember it clearly....

'I am so sick of this!' Mother shouted at my father, who had come home, once again, late and smelling like other women and alcohol.

'You always come home late, never tell me what you're doing and you lost your job last month! You didn't even bother telling me about it! What is wrong with you?'

'What is wrong with me? What is wrong with you, woman! I go and stand where I want and I come home when I want! I'm a freaking adult!' My father shouted back at his wife, annoyed and angry.

'Yes, you are! You are not a teenager anymore! You can't do everything wrong and expect to get away with it! You're a married father!' She screamed hysterically.

'I never wanted to be!' He yells and my mother is stunned for a while.

'James, you have me, you have children. Take that responsibility serious!'

He laughed, in a scary way. 'I never asked for this Cyla! I obeyed my parents. I don't want this life at all, I don't want you!' He yelled.

I saw the tears welling up in my mother's eyes. 'We have a family, James. A son. You love me..' She said while she tried to touch his face. It didn't surprise me that I clearly wasn't a part of the family to them, but it still hurt.

He sniffed and pushed her hand away. 'What fámily? The only worthy person in this family is Rico, not you. I never loved you.' His voice was hard, he meant it.

Mother was in shock. 'I always loved you, James.' She smiled sadly. 'I know you love me too.' She tried to reach him again but this time he slapped her. Right across the face. I gasped quietly. That must really sting, I knew what it felt like to be hit by father.

'You are just as corrupt and stupid as that freak upstairs that you gave birth to.' He hissed.

That was me.. As a seven year old I understood what he said, and it shouldn't have surprised me. But it actually did and it felt like he'd just slapped me right across the face once more.

My mother started crying, begging for his love.

She was hopeless and didn't know what to do.

I watched it all from behind my door, wich was opened just a little. It was the worst fight they'd had in months. And I couldn't sleep that night.

'You have to stop doing this! We need to be honest with eachother and we need to try to work things out!'

The fights never stopped, I can barely remember a time they didn't fight. But lately they started getting worse and they really affected me.

It was confusing. I always knew when the fights would start. I would feel it when my father came home. Even though they made me sad and angry, I couldn't sleep through them. And neither could Rico, I knew it. But he refused to talk about it.

'You're not worthy of our family! The bills haven't been payed in months! We'll have to sell the house if it continues like this!' My mother yelled.

'You know what?' My father came towards my mother and she backed away, afraid of him hitting her. 'I. Don't. Care.' He growled.

'You have to care!' She shouted.

'Don't tell me what to do!' He yelled and slapped her again.

It would always go a little like that, every night. Except on the nights my father didn't come home. He stayed away for weeks sometimes. When he didn't come home my mother would be in the kitchen by herself, crying and comforting herself with bottles of cheap alcohol.

When they fighted, he would hit her sometimes. And he'd leave her on the floor, crying.

She barely slept and cried all the time.

Twelve year old Rico had to keep the family together. He didn't talk to mother very much, even though she wanted to talk to him. He was angry, because she hated me. He cooked for her and listened to her tipsy talking but he didn't talk to her.

He took care of me. He cooked, washed and cared for me. He helped me with my homework and played with me when I looked sad. He put me to bed every night and woke me up in the morning.

His grades dropped and he got more tired every day, but he refused to let me help him take care of the house. He was always busy with cleaning and cooking. He never got to do his homework before he put me to bed.

On my eight birthday I went up to my mom. And I yelled at her. I yelled at her for

Not being a good mother. I yelled at her for not staying strong for Rico. I yelled at her for getting drunk all day. And she didn't yell back. She just stared at me.

After that, it got better for a while. She stopped drinking and started to do more. But she still had her ups and downs.

This went on for a year.

'James..'

'Shut up!'

'We were happy once..'

'Until you gave birth to a little monster and told me she was my daughter.'

'We can work this out..' She tried to kiss him but he pushed her away.

'Don't you get a hint?! I'm done, I'm sleeping in the guest room tonight. Tommorow I'm gone.' He made his way upstairs while my mother tried to stop him. He ran past me and disappeared into the room next to my brother's.

'James! Come back here!' She yelled, but he was already gone. She ran up the stairs and tried to open his door but he locked it.

'Please, James..' My mother begged but he ignored her. She collapsed on the floor and cried some more, that's when she finally saw me standing there. The devastaded, sad look disappeared and made place for an angry, disgusted one. 'Get back into that room of yours and don't come out until I tell you you can.' She hissed, her voice as cold as ice. I froze, a strange sensation took over me. I knew how she was feeling. In a weird way. It was like I was in her head and all of her emotions were mine too. Anger, sadness, brokenhearted feelings were everywhere in my head. She hated me, oh how she hated me. It was all my fault, of that creature she gave life to eight years ago and who hasn't been anything but a burden to her.

'Now.' She hissed again.

I obeyed and ran into my room as fast as I could, afraid of what she might've done if I stayed there.

That was the first time I had ever experienced my ability to read people's minds.

The next morning my dad was gone, and he didn't come back.