My family seems to be perfect from the outside looking in. We have the big house, the money for things, the million-dollar-smiles... but nothing is ever as it seems.
We're plastic. We're fake. So fake, in fact, that we hide the little things abo...
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"Amabel, I know this has been hard for you to go through. It's been hard for us too, but your father and I have decided... to make the divorce final."
My mom's voice breaks and so does my heart. They can't do this to me, to us.
"But—you can't..." I feel tears start to gather in my eyes. "But Tobiah..."
"I know, Amabel, I know... But we have to move on."
"Move on?" I scream, a tear tumbling down my cheek. "It hasn't even been that long—do you even freaking care about anything that has happened?"
"Of course we do, Amabel—"
"No!" I shout, not holding anything back any longer. "If you cared, you wouldn't be tearing our family apart!"
"We think it'd be best for everyone—"
"Shut up,"I say, not caring who's talking. "The only reason why you're doing this is because you're trying to make it look like none of what has happened is affecting you."
"Am," my dad says as he sits forward on the couch. "Your mom and I just aren't happy anymore—"
"Oh, bull," I spit. "You've been cheating on her for four months now, of course you're unhappy with her, and she's mad at you for doing what you're doing, idiot."
"Amabel!"
"No, dad. I'm tired of this. I've stood by too long, watching each of us fall apart and rip at the seams and I'm tired of doing it. I'm tired of being a stupid Barbie Doll and acting like we're perfect."
"Amabel, you were never expected to be perfect."
"Really, mom? Really?" I exhale, anger boiling inside of me and bursting at the seams. This is it. This is where I explode. This is the moment that could either fix or break everything in my life or that could shatter it forever. This is where I lift the curtain and make them see what's going on around them.
This is it.
"Do you know how mom found out about you, dad? No, I guess you don't, since you've continued to do it after she did find out. She was coming home in her car. I watched her from the attic. She slowed in front of our house and saw the woman's car, the woman who sends you inappropriate pictures and calls for you to leave your house, and then she picked up speed and drove off. I've never seen her drive so fast."
"Amabel, we don't need to talk about this," My mom says, her blue eyes watering.
"Oh, but we do mom, we really do, considering you never did. And instead of doing so, you ran to a liquid called alcohol. Shocker. And then you would beat me sometimes, you know. But you don't remember it. You were too drunk to realize what you were doing, and in the morning when you would ask about a bruise or a cut, I'd lie, putting on a smile and laughing about it when it tore me apart inside." I stand up, looking down at the two of them. "You two disgust me. I'm supposed to want to be like you, and you're supposed to be my role model—you were supposed to be Tobiah's role model. And look where that got him. Smoking pot and pushing me down stairs, and then, eventually, he died."
