Remmington's School for Troubled Teens

Chapter 13

The photo above is what Scarlett's mom, Angelica Trixie, looked like. Portrayed by Shakira. 

Scarlett's POV

The worst part about the anniversary of my mother's death is the fact that my father isn't in prison for her murder. I don't have any justice for her. 

The corner ruled her death a suicide. Which it definitely looked like that. But no matter how much I told the police and the paramedics that it was my dad, no one believed me. I was ruled a freak in our town, because of my parents and the fact that my father made it look like I was a mentally troubled, attention seeking bitch who lied and screamed all the time.

And plus the fact that no one cared to investigate anyways didn't help my case. My family was looked down upon by the other people in town. A drug addict and alcoholic twenty year old high school drop out, who knocked up an innocent and foolish sixteen year old Latina who loved love, had a passion for music and lived in her head. 

My mom grew up in San Jose, California. Her mother was a single mother with four other children. They were always poor, my mother would say, and some nights they would go without food and sometimes they had patches in their jeans, but they were optimistic. Except for my mother who was clinically depressed. 

When her mom got a husband when my mom was twelve, things started looking up. They got designer jeans and three course meals every night. That was until he started to beat her mom and the children. And my mother became depressed. Again. Always day dreaming about a prince to rescue her.

Then, my father's sorry excuse for a rock band came to town and performed in a small club that my mom frequented as a teen. Her prince. Her rock god. She had fallen for a man with sweat running down his face, shaggy hair, baggy clothes and blood dripping from his finger tips from playing the guitar.

And as the story goes, he looked at her in the crowed the whole show. He grabbed her hand and pulled her on stage where she danced and he sang. Then they ran. Back to Alyce Lake, Washington, where my father was from. And the whole town knew that she was a stupid girl because she put trust in their drunken burnout.

My mom was naive enough to think she could "save" my father from his destructive ways and she found out the hard way that that couldn't happen.

He found out she was pregnant and wanted her to get an abortion, saying it would ruin his "rock 'n roll" career, which he had already ruined. But she wanted to keep me so, she had me in secret. I know that sounds crazy, but my father was too drunk or too stoned to notice anything. And since she was so small, her stomach didn't grow too much at all. 

My mom brought me home from the hospital and in secret took care of me with my oblivious father in the house. When he found out, he called her a "whore" and thought she cheated on him. Then she told him that I was his and he tried to strangle me. A little, tiny three week old baby with colic who couldn't gain any weight. 

Then he moved on to beating her, treating her like less than dog shit and taking advantage of the fact that she was such a forgiving woman. For eleven years, she endured his violent treatment. It was almost like an unwritten trade, she got to keep me as long as he got to take out his rage on her. 

After a few years, my mom would shoot up heroin to escape from reality. I only saw it once and I was thankfully too young to understand. She layed passed out on the couch with a needle in her arm. And the next day she told me that the doctor came to visit and must have forgotten to take his needle with him. She never stopped taking care of me, though, and she always spent every waking moment of mine culturing me and loving me.