Lefty's ✓

thirteen.

August

I left the house after my dad said that. It pissed me off in ways I couldn't describe. What he said hurt me too.

I thought we'd been talking. I thought the talks we had while watching some sports games or while he'd driven me to school before I could drive meant something. I guess to him they weren't anything. I guess he decided to forget everything we as a father and son shared before the move; before mom died.

I guess it all relates back to that; her death. Everything does. All my issues with dad, relationships, myself, relate back to her. She's the reason dad doesn't see me as a son anymore. She's the reason I grew up not knowing how to find someone before it was too late. She's the reason I sat in my room hoping everything would end just because I hated the person I became because of her.

The constant verbal abuse caused me to hide myself. Whenever I said anything to her, it resulted in an insult that'd be forever etched in my heart. So I did what I had to not feel like that, I stopped talking. Not just to her, but to everyone. My friends pushed me away and my dad would never glance in my direction. Before he'd only look at me to listen to I was saying. Mom ruined any chance of a relationship we ever had. The child I used to be vanished in front of my eyes and there was no way for me to stop it.

It was all becoming too much. Everything I'd been bottling up, every little word, story, feeling, was coming to the surface. I had to tell someone; I had to talk to someone.

So I did what I've been doing the past couple weeks, I drove to Melissa's.

The door was open when I went to go knock on it, so I walked in. There on the couch I saw the girl I'd fallen hopelessly in love with.

But she wasn't alone.