Match Your Weakness With A Name

Fourteen? Why Does The World Hate Me?

"I can't pity you," I spit into the phone.

"I thought you'd be more accepting," she said. "I thought you were all about being accepting."

"Shut up! Shut up! You're pathetic and manipulative-"

"Now, Geoffrey, there's no need for that kind of language-"

"You know what?" I say. "I think there is. That's what you are, you're nothing but controlling and abusive and perverted-"

"What happened to my precious little boy?"

"You happened!" I yell. "You and your dirty husband both-"

"Don't talk about your father like that-"

"He's. Not. My. Father," I say, "and you're not my mother."

""Why, yes I am-"

"You have no right to call yourself my mother," I say. "Mothers are supposed to be loving and caring and supportive-"

"It can't be helped-"

"Yes, it can," I say. "You did it all yourself. You came up with the plan, you carried it out, you got caught. This is your fault. You deserve the rest of your life in that prison."

"Geoff-"

"I hope you die! I hope they retry you and your husband, and I hope they give you the death penalty! I hope you fucking die!"

"You don't mean-"

"Oh, yes, I do! I never want to hear from you again, and if I must, it better be a funeral invitation."

I take a deep breath, hang up, and run upstairs to my bedroom.

Fuckuckuckuckuckuckuckuckuckuckuckuck...

I thought she was done. I thought I was safe from her. I guess not.

I hate everything now, because I can't stop thinking about last year. Honestly, I thought I'd be over it by now, but I'm not. People were telling me I should be over it in January. I should be okay. I should be back to normal.

But I'm not.

And it's all their fault.

I don't even care enough to pick out a new CD to put in my player. I just slam the play button, and Viva La Cobra starts up. It makes me think of Awsten. But, then again, most things do nowadays.

His hair is nice. I want to pet it sometime. I move to get my phone to text him, but remember he is grounded and can't use his phone. Yay, no distractions other than the music.

Dimly, I wonder if I have enough upper-body strength to climb through his bedroom window and sneak him out. He probably wouldn't be able to climb back down, though. Also I might get arrested. I promised Jenna I wouldn't get arrested until I graduated college.

Fuck this shit. I need to get out of my head.

I sigh deeply and trudge downstairs and play Legend of Zelda for a while because I'm a fucking nerd.

My aunt and uncle get home at six. They make dinner. I eat the dinner. Then I go to bed.

The next morning, I wake up, and I am eighteen years old. My birthday is an unimportant event, but this one is a bit more special, because I am now an adult.

Regardless, I still have to go to work.

Fast-forward six or so hours. Nothing interesting happened at work, unless you count the kid I had to call an ambulance on after he attempted to impress his friends by shooting hot-tub water out his...never mind.