The imperfection we called our love | ✔

*Four*

I think as a kid growing up, there comes a time in your life, where you think your parents will separate or part ways. And sometimes you are right, sometimes not: Most of the times not.

That's just my opinion.

People rarely got married because of true love. True love was bullshit on a stick. - It was your minds messed up interpretation of lust. It was a waste of time and it's what people who had nothing else going for them did.

I honestly hated the fact that it was so important for us as people to be or feel loved, I hated that you needed someone else to make you feel better about yourself, or someone to share your pain. Why? So they could rub it in your face?

People were cruel, selfish leeches, that cosy up to you, only to try prying your door of personal comfort open. Some; slow and discreet, some yanking the door open, almost like ripping a band aid off. - Fast and painful.

Till eventually you open up, and they enter, making their presence known, cornering you, tormenting, choking, caging, breaking and stealing from you until you can't breathe anymore and you give in letting them have full dominance over you. Why? Because its love and this is my life, and it's not perfect but it's mine, even if he abuses me and my children, what the hell is that?

I kept my personal life out of every conversation, activity or mention. Because my parents happened to be one of the many reasons

it wasn't just the people I wish they weren't, but the person I wish I wasn't when I was with them, the person I ran away from, the person that mirrored and portrayed exact images of my parents.

They fought a lot, and slammed doors, and fist fights, blood sweat and tears, sometimes leaving the house for weeks, and returning with smug looks and spite on their faces.

But it was all pointless, and a tiring repetitive roller coaster from time to time. Because my mother always stayed, my dad pretended like everything was okay, as long as his precious image wasn't damaged or dallied with. - The image of a good job that paid well, a beautiful house in the best neighborhood, with a darling wife and two darling children. Whilst my mother carried on with her miserable life sucking up to my father and treating us like shit because she was always depressed and angry at the world, for getting married young, for having kids, for having to be constantly reminded of her mistakes she had made so frequently.

But no matter what happened, they stayed together, and not in a positive way; where their bond would grow stronger, because of every hardship, instead it was tearing us all apart day by day, month by month, year by year, one by one.

Until last summer

The summer of shit shows. The summer where I found out my mother was having an affair, and the specific affair hadn't been her first one.

The thing that disgusted me wasn't the fact that she was cheating,- yes that was wrong, but it didn't bother me, plus who was I to judge, without a proper reason. the thing that bothered me the most was that she preached about how horrible our father was, and that he was crazy, and arrogant and a bastard, and the biggest liar, and manipulator on the face of the earth.

But then what would you use to describe my mother's actions?

and she had no shame in it at all, she actually brought her 'lovers' in the house, where we would have to see their faces, and act like it was normal, and not wrong at all, and think about it as we lay in bed at night, or happened to be sitting on the park bench directly outside school. Then when my father came home we had to bite down on our tongues from words spilling out of our mouths or crying. And having to look at his face and go insane with the knowledge what our mother did in the dark, and hid it all with a smile plastered across her face.

Our family was one big fat joke.

That day after school, I went straight home, I was still worried about Matt, and kind of guilty as well for not staying in, but all would hopefully be well soon. I shut the door behind me, and called for Matt

No response

He was probably still at school

I checked the fridge, and pulled out a juice carton, screwing off the top, and tilting it so that the contents flowed into my mouth, while I looked for something else to eat in the fridge. Low and behold there was a plate, with a sloppily cut pizza slice in it. Chuckling I took it out and popped it in the microwave.

Eating the slice now, I raised the slice to my mouth, preparing for another bite

school had been quite weird today, I don't know what I had expected, but I was never one to bask in the spotlight of popularity at school, but I swear, I felt every pair of eyes on me at school today.

I wasn't that interesting, neither had I done anything wildly exiting recently, which brought us back to the morning where the only thing out of ordinary, was Dave's brother, who looked like a coloring book, with all the ink covering his body, drove me to school.

But that still wasn't an actual reason for why everyone was staring

People didn't stare for no reason

They must have remembered him for something

But Finn wasn't even at our school, so they had to know him from elsewhere. But how could everyone at school know him from a different place, from the nerds who stayed in on Friday nights to the privileged kids with sports cars and weekend jobs. - which was why it was quite hard to believe, how every single one of Creston high school's population knew the same guy, and it was definitely not Dave's parties, because truth be told not everyone went to those things.

Either he had been at our school previously, which would explain why everyone knew him besides the freshman, or he was just really popular

I couldn't place my finger on it exactly, I peeled off the clothes, starting with Cecily's hoodie, and my sun dried jeans, and threw them in the washer, wondering who the hell was Finn Windel