A Harsh Reality | ✓

Chapter 9

Amanda

"Let me go!" I shouted at him, trying in vain to free my wrist from his grasp. I had my hair up in a ponytail, no piercings and a blue leotard underneath my gymnastics tracksuit. I tugged harder and tried to make my way towards the front door.

"You're not going anywhere," Tyler stated, "Not with your ankle like that."

"I already told you," I repeated, "I'm fine!" I placed my free hand on top of his wrist and twisted it harshly. He winced in pain but didn't let me go.

"You're staying, like it or not."

"I have to go to gymnastics, if I don't I'll have fewer chances of getting into UCLA!" I replied.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "Even your coach knows that you can't go, so there's no point in walking over there." I stopped struggling and thought. He had a good point, but I didn't want to be around when Dad arrived. I let my hand fall, making Tyler pulling me towards him.

"That wasn't so hard, wasn't it?" he asked, "Now, go to your room before Dad arrives."

"You do you know he will come home in more or less three to four hours, right?"

"Of course...?"

"Mom will be here in an hour, I'm sure of it," I told him, "Don't leave her alone when Dad arrives, he is worse to her than he is to me, and it's better if she's not on her own."

"I won't," he replied, "You go up and change, I'll make some food." I nodded and walked up to the stairs. I had already explained to Tyler why we couldn't put Dad in jail. And now that I think of it, why the hell am I still calling him my Dad? I shook my head and went inside my room.

When I went downstairs again, I had put on a pair of shorts and a comfortable shirt. Tyler placed a plate with a piece of pizza in front of me.

"I can't eat this," I said, "I already had my share of junk food of the week." Coach didn't want me to lose or gain any weight until the qualifications for the Nastia Liukin Cup, which would grant me the entrance to that competition. If I win or end up in the top three in the Liukin Cup, I have a huge chance of getting to Regionals, which could lead me to Nationals and Internationals, and then lead me to a scholarship in UCLA, which then would deliver the Olympics at my feet. Complicated, but simple enough to me.

Tyler rolled his eyes at me and took the food away. I stood up and walked to the fridge, taking out cheese and grabbing bread from the nearest cupboard. I prepared myself a lame sandwich and added a few tomato slices that I found lying around. I sat down in my seat again and munched my food as Tyler sat down in front of me.

"So, tell me about your life," he said. What a way to be direct.

"What do you want to know?" I asked.

"Everything." I glanced at his eyes and saw regret. Let me tell you the story. When Tyler had turned sixteen, he learned to drive and got his license. I admired him for doing it in such a short time, and I loved the long drives we did around the neighborhood, the wind in my hair and the feeling of freedom in my face. I guess you could say that my life was perfect, I had two loving parents and an awesome older brother who took me in his car and taught me amazing things. Or that's what I thought.

One morning I had woken up to Tyler's voice, and the next, he was gone with his car. He left a note telling me how much he loved me but explaining that he needed to explore the country, to find himself. That's exactly what he said. I was depressed for weeks because of his disappearance, and my parents too. My Dad was the most affected, he started drinking much more than before, and didn't stop ever since. A few years later, when I was almost eleven, he started with the abuse. Throughout time, I have been receiving letters from Tyler, it was a relief for me to know where he was, but they stopped coming when we moved to Miami, three months ago.