When A Girl Goes BAD

The Demons Under My Bed

Okay, so I may not be the nicest person on the planet. I’m sure as hell not the most well behaved or mannered girl in the state of California. I know I’m not the perfect girl every mother has wanted, but that doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings. I just choose to keep them to myself. But now I want to verbally share with you my frustration. My fucking mother, yes my own mother, is shipping me off to live with the man whore I call my father because she can’t handle my “rebellious attitude”. She blames herself and my dad for my hatred for them as she rightly should.

I mean they both cheated on each other, got a quickie divorce, and moved on in the blink of an eye. They told me they “just weren’t right for each other” the way they thought they were. Bullshit. My dad just wanted a younger more naive girl to fuck and my mom well… She’s just a plan whore. Right now she’s on boyfriend number 29 since the divorce two years ago. My dad didn’t want to deal with me, not that I’m complaining, so he gave majority of the custody to my mom. But now she’s shipping me off to him for a year so she can have a break from all the responsibilities of taking care of a teenage girl. Like having to pick me up from the police station when I get in fights. I’m on a first name basis with officers. Chief Laurence is more a dad to me than my biological father is. Oh and mom is also tired of my ISS and suspensions for shit. SO here I am getting ready to leave.

“Ravenna Rae Tate! We need to leave NOW!” My mother shouts from the bottom of the stairs. I don’t know how many times I’ve told her to call me Raven not Ravenna. Just another piece of evidence proving she doesn’t listen. Rolling my eyes I slide on some was washborn jeans with slashes all the way up to my upper thigh, a cheetah print crop top with straps, black five inch stilettos and a black leather jacket. I curl my hair and apply red lipstick. I put my B-A-D rings and “Fuck Us All” bracelets on, grab my “WTF” clutch and head downstairs.

One thing my slutty mother is particularly good at was using men to get what she wants. She maybe a great real estate agent but her customers have no idea what a tramp she is. I walk through the kitchen and see mom and John  lip locking. GROSS. I clear my throat and say, “Spread STD’s other than places where people can see you do it”. I cross my arms and grab an apple. “Young lady! Don’t speak to me that way! If haven’t forgotten I’m your -” She began but I cut her off. “Mother. I know Kristen, I’m the only one who seems to remember that.” I reply, venom lacing my words. I see my flinch when I use her name. Good. Her eyes drift down my outfit and places her hands on her hips and sighs, rubbing her temples. “You’re not wearing that. You look like a hooker.” She says, glaring at me. I snort and respond, “I take after you, mother dearest” and turn to walk away. She  grabs my hand stopping me and turns me around. Her eyes grow wide and I can only guess she noticed the piercings I got ten months ago. “What in the world are those-” She asks, shock evident on her face. “None of your business” I snap and walk out the door to the car where Nana Tate waited for me.

(Not finished)