Insanity

Chapter 6: Bachelors and Friends

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Bachelors and Friends

 

  I slowly duct taped my broken window. I did a pretty whorey job, but I had to close it up somehow so the rain didn’t get in. I really needed a new truck too, but I still have no job.

  I sighed as my forehead hit the roof of the truck to rest there. When my Dad got home I was telling him I wasn’t going to school anymore and that I would prefer to go back to rehab. It was easier there, we were all fucked up, not just me.

  I slowly trudged inside, well aware of the elderly neighbour glaring at me disapprovingly and the mailbox still lying on the ground, broken and forgotten. I was supposed to still be in school. I slammed the front door with a great force, because I needed something else to break. The glass window and the mailbox weren’t enough. I needed to hit something!

  I felt myself missing the days I was street fighting. I came home covered in bruises and sometimes broken bones, but it felt so great after releasing my pent up rage. My messed up life style tended to pull all the rage to the surface pretty quickly. My Dad always said I had a short fuse. Apparently when I was little I got mad about my Mom not letting me watch the Lion King, so I broke her favourite tea set. It was a fair trade in my opinion. A stupid tea set for what she called ‘a stupid movie’.

  I threw my bag on the floor and watched as all of my books tumbled out. I leaned against the door and scrubbed my face with my hand. Restarting isn’t working out for me, at all. I hope my Dad is faring much better.

  I spotted a family picture on a cabinet in the hallway. It was from before everything happened, with all three of us smiling happily. My mother was there in an expensive dress showing off her pearly white teeth, my Dad was there in a cheap suit and an easy grin. Then there was me. I was only young, but I wasn’t smiling like they were, I was just staring at the camera in a t-shirt my best friend brought for me for my birthday one year. I think I still had that shirt; it had a gaming reference on it. But somehow I knew back then that nothing was okay, that it wouldn’t be okay. My mother wore expensive things, while my Dad had to scrape together as much money as he could to even afford a cheap suit that wasn’t even in his size.

  My eyes began to water as I stared at the picture. It was all her fault! This all happened because she was too selfish! My own mother! I picked up the picture and threw it.

  I heard the shatter of glass, but I was too content on destroying things. I threw another family picture across the room and smashed a vase on the floor. It was hers. I even pulled the cabinet to pieces because it once belonged to her!

  I destroyed everything that she had ever said was hers, before I ripped the fridge apart. Not literally, I just pulled all of the food out and threw it across the room. I picked up her favourite cheese that was still in its packaging. We never ate it; it was just a habit to buy it, because she refused to have anything else. I grabbed the biggest knife I could find, attacked the cheese with the knife. I made countless holes in it- more than were already there- and completely mutilated it; it didn’t look like cheese when I was done. Then the ‘cheese’, packaging and even the knife were thrown into the bin.

  I broke glasses, plates, bowls, and her favourite spatula before I sat at the kitchen table and for once I cried. I let myself bring the barriers down and cried.  I hadn’t cried like this since when I was first submitted into rehab. My parents were there, worried, and other parents sat there staring at me disapprovingly as their children went through the same process of being submitted that I was going through. The pressure of all of the eyes, the disappointment and the fact that there was nothing left for me to turn to brought on the tears than. And now, it was just the fact that there was nothing left I could do, for anything. Everything I had ever tried to make meaningful had been destroyed by myself.