Don't Hesitate

Chapter II

Two

I woke up to the sound of yelling and slamming doors. This didn't happen frequently but when it did it it was always a scary experience, even when I was child. But I learned to ignore their words, even if their fighting always ends with me. It's 4 am.

"What the hell? Do I look like I fucking care about your shit?"

"My shit? That's your reputation you're talking about. If you get caught again sneaking

around with your sluts, both of our careers are going down the drain. For fuck's sake, you strut around the streets with girls' Laura's age!"

"Why do you fucking care who I screw with? Just because you get knocked up early doesn't mean I can't be with other women."

"Did I look like I had a choice?" Elizabeth screams.

"Yeah. You did." Luis says, in a whisper, maybe because of fear I might hear, but I did. And that's the end of that. That hurt more than previous fights. My mind has matured from the past few years of hearing them argue but that one clearly said that my dad wanted me out of the picture a long time ago. Since it was already 4 am, I decided to wake up. I didn't want to sleep anymore after that anyways.

Sometimes, I still wonder why my parents hate me. I mean, I understand that I ruined their potential relationship together before I had been born. Their lives were planned and ready before I came into the picture. Sure, I ruined their studies and careers but the minute I let go from inside my mother they started working on their lives again. Elizabeth got through law school, and Luis rose up as an up and coming lawyer. They left me to be with my grandparents, and all the people involved with that didn't mind. I certainly didn't. My grandparents make me happy. Even so, after they got their lives straight, their love was long gone. They thought by taking me back it would help them again, since they can properly build a family after they arranged their lives oh so perfectly. 

I don't know if they tried. I was too young. But whenever i was in elementary none of my parents came to my classes, none of them talked to my teachers. Maybe they did. I hope they did. Maybe my presence just made it worse. Maybe I reminded them so much of their trouble and pain. And maybe when they realized it, they were too late, already grounded in "family" and fell in love with their reputations as a perfect, young and capable family life.

I don't understand why they don't love me though. If they are so obsessed with people thinking that we are a perfect family- why not try to be one? I have good grades; as a child I forced myself to excel academically for them to notice, and I still try to be the best student I can be. I have never been rebellious, never been disrespectful and always kept my mouth shut. I absorbed rather than letting out. I shrank in their presence rather than thrive in it. I have grown beautifully, as their friends would say, having my mother's beautiful golden bronze hair and my father's bright amber eyes and I only wish that their proud faces when they look at me would remain permanent. But that's never the case.

Maybe if I played a sport my dad would respect me more. Maybe if i danced my mom would find me pleasant to be around. I try so hard to be loved, I try so hard to love them, but they never seem to notice, or even try to care.

I guess that's why I draw. Art is therapeutic, not only for me. It's proven to be a reliever of problems. Art doesn't fumble like words, or stutter like voices. It is permanent, and it can be controlled, it is quiet, but inside of you, it can be loud. It's more than enough to store the copious overflowing emotions i can get from this life. And it feels great. Music interested me too, I remember vaguely playing the piano at my grandparents. But here, music is intimidating. I find it pathetic to fill in the silence with even more melancholy melodies. But I wish I enjoyed it like before.