The Very Tired Girl

|chapter 2|

"Sam!" I groan and walk into the kicthen seeing my mother holding a cigarette in her hand, looking tired as ever.

"Yeah?"

"Your dad called." I laughed.

"That's funny."

"I'm telling you the truth. He called. He wants to see you." I roll my eyes and sit down across from her.

"Like that's ganna ever happen. Mum, he said this a million times before. What makes you think it's actually going to happen this time?" She glares at me.

"Because we talked this time over a phone, not a letter." Wait, what? He actually called? After eight years, he decided to call? Why?

"Why now?" She took a drag and smiled. It wasn't a happy smile. It was sadistic.

"Pack your bags, Sam."

"You're kidding. Mom." No. I can't see him. I'm not ready. And besides, he didn't bother to call until now? Why should I trust him?

"I'll get Joe if you don't go do as I said." I glare at her, earning me to be slapped. I didn't show weakness though.

You see, my mother, she has good days and bad days. The way she's acting, I'm guessing her and Joe got into yet another fight.

I put my hand over my cheek and ran to my room, throwing suitcases on my bed and throwing clothes and important jewelery of mine in there. I didn't want to be here anyway.

•••

"Jolee?" I knocked on her door before walking in and sitting on her bed.

"What do you want?"

"Mom is making me-"

"I know." She cut me off and threw a pillow over her face, seeming to be annoyed by my presence, so I left her room. What about my brother? Is he coming, too?

I cautiously walked over to my mother's bedroom and knocked.

"Go away!" She yelled. I ignored her and asked anyway.

"Is Jack coming, too?"

"Yeah, he's going. You're leaving after your appointment tomorrow." She stated annoyed.

I walked back to my room and finished packing my clothes then started packing Jack's clothes. God knows he can't pack for sh*t.

Guess I'm not going to school here anymore...

Once I was done, I laid back down on my bed and sighed. A part of me wants to go see my dad. I mean, the last time I've seen him was when I was ten. The last time I've seen him, he was...broken. There's no other way to put it. He was broken. I expected him to call us and to get back with my mom after he was out of rehab, but no. I found out my mom cheated towards the end of the marriage with Joe. He hasn't tried to contact us. The only times he even did, was through letters that said "I'm visiting y'all this Christmas. Love, dad." But he never did. Why even send letters when they're just false information.

But the other part of me also feels unwanted. Everybody here doesn't really want to keep paying the hospital visits for me. When they are nice to me, sort of like yesterday, well that's rare. They're nice to me one second and cruel the other.

So I guess I do want to leave? I don't know. It's confusing. I'm confusing.

I looked outside, realizing it's dark out. How long have I been spaced out?

I changed into a pair of red checkered pajama pants with a black band shirt and walked out heading into the kitchen. Seeing my plate already made, I grabbed it along with silverware and placed it at the table and began eating.