Destiny: Diary of a 15 Year Old Psycho

Sorry

I looked at my old-fashioned alarm clock, which was a big block of black with harsh red lights displaying the time. It was quarter past three and I hadn't slept at all. My boney fingers stung, though they had nearly stopped bleeding. The music from downstairs had dulled down and it sounded quieter when I squished it closely against my ears. I heard Dad's footsteps coming up the stairs and I swiftly shut my eyes. My white door creaked open, and Dad came creeping in, trying not to disturb my 'sleeping'. He sat close to me on the edge of my bed and whispered 'I'm sorry my sweet angel, I have never had any experience in raising teenagers. Especially girls. You are the spitting image of your beautiful mother, but I threw it away. I threw her away. I didn't love her enough and I let her soul escape my loose grip. I can not lose you as well. I don't know how long it takes but I will make sure you get better, day by day.' He began to weep as he rubbed his chubby fingers above the covers. 'You have no idea how much you mean to me. I wouldn't care if you had to go to the hospital everyday, I will stand by you and make sure that I can do everything in my power to keep you safe, my love' I sat up instantly in bed with emotion bubbling up inside of me. Tears flowed down my porcelain face and I tightly gripped my Dad's thick body and pierced it with my love. 'I love you too Dad' I whispered in his ear and I clung to him tighter and tighter. He kissed my forehead gently and left the room.

When I woke up, I had a sudden burst of energy. I rubbed my eyes with my small fists and sat up. I looked down at my floor. It was still covered in crap from last night. I remembered Dad. I remembered how much he said that he loved me. I got up and stepped over the broken pieces of glass, scattered around like the sand on a beach. I bounced downstairs to the smell of bacon, sizzling slowly in an oily pan. Dad was standing by the hob, whisking some eggs in a large blue mug, with a pretty floral design printed on it. He saw me and gave me a beaming smile, despite having several teeth missing. I was in my navy blue stripy pajamas from Primark with little white buttons done up the front. Dad gestured to me to sit down at the wooden oak kitchen chair. I sat obediently and rested my head on my hands. He sat down next to me and said 'I've decided that my drinking has gotten way out of hand, and I can't take care of you when my head's all over the place, can I?' He said

'I don't need looking after, I'm not a flaming psychopath!' I shouted, though I quickly realised that I was a bit irrational 'Sorry' I sighed 'I think it's great that you want to quit.

'Well so do I, so I'm going to rehab four times a week for the next six months' He said, with an uncertain expression on his face 'That's great Dad!' I stood up and hugged him with my bare arms. He gave me a little squeeze and suddenly the fire alarm went off, as the bacon was burning in the frying pan. 'Oh fuck!' He yelled, while frantically flapping a tea towel underneath the wretched alarm. I giggled at the sight of my Dad. It looked like he was doing a weird dance for me. He saw me laughing at him, and he burst out in hysterics. I quickly stood up and took the pan off the hob and pressed 'reset' on the alarm. Dad slumped down on the sofa and rubbed his face harshly with his hands. 'You cope well in a crisis, don't you sweetie?' He nudged me and I snuggled into his arm. 'Oh no, I'm going to be late for school!' I shouted 'Screw school, you deserve a treat day, and I'm not taking no for an answer so get changed.' I rushed up stairs and threw on my best grey skinny jeans, though they made my legs look like little twigs. I wore my burnt red vest with an intricate crochet design, trailing down the back. I also wore my second hand leather jacket from a jumble sale. It was very shabby, however it made it look rustic and chic. As I went downstairs, I saw Adam out in the streets, arguing with his Mum. He looked so stressed and infuriated, I opened my window to hear what they were saying, but all I could make out was 'kiss...slag...freak' They were talking about me. About us. I had completely forgot about it since everything happened with my Dad. Finally, Adam yelled 'I hate you!' And ran off, maybe into the city? I walked down stairs, feeling bad that I had caused all of the drama between Adam in his Mum. Despite her ignorance, they were still really close. Dad was waiting at the bottom of the stairs, next to the flakey banister. He was on the phone to my school, making an excuse for my absence. 'Yeah, she feels very ill, and has went through 4 boxes of tissues! She's a right little snot machine! Okay bye.' He hung up and burst out laughing. 'Dad! That's so embarrassing! The secretaries are going to think I'm some sort of freak!' When I said this, I was trying to be serious and sophisticated, but it sounded so funny, that I couldn't help laughing along with my Dad. He put his long arm around my shoulder, and we wandered out the door.

I felt so bad for Adam. He was always there when I needed help, yet when he had had a massive argument with his own mother, I was swaning off on a mystery day with my alcoholic father.

As we got in the car, Dad asked 'So do you really want to go to Brighton?' Since I had been to the hospital, all I could think about was how much I wanted to go. Even though I was now diagnosed as a total freak, I still wanted to go so badly, though I was very nervous as I thought I would have yet another panic attack, but this time in front of my Dad. 'Yes of course! How far away is it?' I queried 'About 5 hours sweetheart, we don't have to if you don't feel up to all of the travelling.' He said considerately. 'What about school for the rest of the week?' I said

'You don't need to go in this week, anyways, I never tried in school and I turned out alright.' Dad had left school when he was 16 after failing most of his GCSEs. He had then got a mechanic apprenticeship, but quit as it was 'not fulfilling enough'. After that, he drifted from job to job. Everything from handyman, to working at a call centre. I sighed, as I loved schol. My favourite subject was English, as it only required imagination and a genuine interest. I loved exploring different character's personalities and finding hidden reasoning behind certain traits.