Messages on a Coffee Cup

Chapter 9

   As I exited Ethan's car and approached my house, I saw Kimberly's green Volkswagen beetle parked in the drive way. 

   Crap. Kimberly, my cover! 

Ethan nervously idled in his car until I told him it was okay to leave. 

I opened the door to hear extensive yelling between my parentals and immediately headed for the stairs.

   "Holland Marie Summers! Get your ass over here!" my dad screamed angrily with a bottle of whiskey in his hand.

   Oh God. He's drunk again.

   I walked shamefully towards him and said, "I'm sorry dad. I know my curfew is ten. It won't happen again."

   "Tom please calm down!" my mother desperately shrieked.

   "The problem here is not only your curfew young lady!" he gestured towards the hallway as Kimberly revealed herself.

   "I'm sorry Holland. I wanted to see how you-" Kimberly said

but was viciously interrupted by my unbelievably intoxicated father.

   "Don't apologize to her! She's the one who lied, not you! Now get the hell out of my house!

   "But Mr. Summers-"

   "Get out!"

   He threw the empty whiskey bottle in his hand, barely missing Kimberly's head. Her eyes filled up with tears and she frantically ,and all at once, ran out the front door.   

   "Now who were you really with! Huh," he said as he grabbed my wrist. "Where were you really?!"

   "Ow dad! Stop!"

   "Tom stop it!" mom yelled at the top of her lungs.

   "Getting piss drunk with a hormonal teenage boy?"

   "Dad please! Let go!" I pleaded through distressed sobs.

   "Or sexing it up with anyone you can get your hands on?"

   He lifted his hand up and striked me on my left cheek. A sharp pain embeded itself into my cheek, sending a stinging shockwave across my face. It hurt. A lot. At this point I wanted to run away and abandon everything I had there, in Westfield, but I quickly realized a better solution, a more fun solution on my part. A giant flash of hate serged through my system and my mom cried for help as if the neighbours could actually hear her.

   The sounds of sirens quickly filled my ears. I couldn't believe what had just happened. My mom rushed to my side as I looked at my father in disgust. The police barged in just as I gained enough strength to throw one of my world famous punches. It connected with the side of my abusive father's face as I shrieked long and hysterically, the pain in my cheek and hand subdued by a sudden rush of adrenaline.

   "I fucking hate you!"   

   I always knew he could be this much of an asshole. We should have left a long time ago

   "We are done! You here me? Done! Get out!" my mom screamed at the top of her lungs.    Finally the police detained the

wasted bastard, and secured his hands, which had just taken a swing at my face, into handcuffs.

   The officer followed normal procedure and read him his miranda rights.

   "You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say or do can and will be used against you in a court of law..."

   "You are one huge son of a bitch!" the officer added before shoving dad into the police cruiser and leaving my mom and I to the paramedics.

   I collapsed to the ground, my mom huddled on top of me, and hugged her, tears cascaded down my furiously burning cheek. Kimberly came in through the front door and joined the huddle, also sobbing.

   "I'm so sorry."   

   God, my life is a roller coaster, my conscience observed.   

   After the paramedics patched me up, Kimberly offered for us to stay at her house for a couple of nights as our place was a disaster after my ex-dad's dick-wad rampage. My mom and I graciously accepted and pack our bags.

   "Thanks for calling the fuzz," I said to Kim, trying to lighten the mood.

   "Oh, yeah. I was going to call, but someone else already had."

   I furrowed my eyebrows in confusion, "Well, then who was it?

   "Ethan Abrams. He also told me to give this to you."

   She opened up her purse and pulled out the empty Starbucks cup in which had once resided a caramel flan latte bought by the Adonis himself. Curiously, I turned it around to reveal a message written in black ink on the back of the cup: 

I'm so sorry Holland. I just couldn't let him hurt you. If you don't hate me as much as I think you do, meet me next to the squeaky old vending machine outside of the Cafeteria after school tomorrow or just call me to tell me you are okay. Until then, stay strong beautiful. You're still perfect to me .

   Sincerely,

- E