An Unforgiving Love

Life sucks.

        I grew up very religious. My parents were caltholic, so I had no choice but to be one too.

I didn't understand religion at all when I was younger, so I went along with it.

But as I started getting older I really started to question it.

When I started to question our faith to my mother, she had grown very angry at me and told me to never questions Gods ways.

I was gulliable back then, so I felt like I was doing something wrong.

We went to church every Sunday, prayed at dinner, and every night before bed.

I still had those questions in my head, and I started to wonder if he was actualy real.

I started to feel these feelings more and more, so I got the courage to tell my mom how I felt about it.

That was when everything went wrong.

I walk through the hallway slowly, watching my feet as I think.

Each step I take makes a floor panel creek a loud cry of pain. My house is old, worn out, and filled with too many sad memories.

Adrenaline starts to pulse through my body and makes it's way to my hands. I feel them starting to shake. I clinch my fists, trying to fight back.

"Come on Kristina, it's been far too long. You'll regret it if you don't speak up now," I say, whispering faintly to myself.

Peeking my head around the corner, I see my mother scrubbing the counter. Her frail hands grip the cloth in a constricting hold.

Back and fourth, side to side, she scrubs repeadatley.

Herion did not treat her very well. Drugs abused her mind and tempered with her looks in the worst ways. She's very tall and thin, her body resembling a walking skeleton. Her dull, brunette hair passes her hips, and falls around her in each of her movements.

I clear my throat loudly to break her concentration. She lifts her head reluctantly.

"What do you want now,?" she says with frustration.

I take a couple daring steps towards her, and start to gather my words.

"Well, I want to talk to you something, it's been bothering me for while."

Her eyes stare at me blankly.

"Well, spit it out already," she says, impatiently.

As moments slip away, I finally feel the words spill from my mouth.

"I wanted to talk to you about my beliefs, our beliefs. I don't want to be forced to pray every night, or go to church every Sunday."

"I believe I'm old enough to choose whether I'm religious or not."

Each word I spoke took every peice of confidence I had, but also took along some weight off my chest.

My mother falls silent, and looks into my nervous, hazel eyes.

Waiting for her to speak feels like an interinty.

She unclenches the rag and takes a few steps towards me.

My heart races, and crazy thoughts run wild through my head.

Is she going to hug me,? I think to myself, sadly hopeful.

Man, could I be more wrong.

It happend in a flash, and I find my self laying on the floor.

The bitch just punched me!

In disbelief, I look up while holding my jaw, and see my mom standing over me.

"This is the last and only time you will ever doubt our faith. I do not care what you believe, or what you do not belive," she said, mockingly.

As she kept spitting her words at me like a snakes venom, I took my courage and stood up to face the monster.

She continued the lecture, letting each word reach the peek of screaming.

Naturally, I drowned out her hatred, and worthless words.

Many angered thoughts and feeling started to surface. Something inside me decided this was the last time.

My fingers retracted into a fist, time stopped, and I took my first and only swing.

I've never hit anyone before, so I guess I can say I got a lucky shot. Once my boney fist hit her nose, blood started gushing out, along with many cuss words.

Time seemed to return to normal, and I figured this conversation is over.

I ran towards the door and yanked my coat off the hook.

Bursting through the door, I clumsily put on my coat, and let my legs run.

My heart started to pound harder and harder the longer I ran, begging me to slow down. Breathing hard, I slowed to a complete stop.

I'm still in disbelief. I can not belive I just hit my mom.

I feel a lot better actually, even though that was not the direction I wanted that conversation to go.

Even though I gained back some pride in myself, I realized my dad is going to be disappointed in me, and going back home will suck a lot.

Picking up my pace again I head over to my best friend Anna's house.

As I kept walking, I mostly stared at my tan converse and kicked rocks out of my path.

I picked up my head and saw Anna's house just ahead. I was ready to talk a lot of shit about my mother to my best friend until I couldn't bear the thought of her any longer.

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I've been slowly making a lot of changes to this book, so it's a working process . ;-) I basically rewrote this whole chapter, and will probably rewrite the others. I'll try to update more, so be prepared . :-D  ~failingconscious