The Heartbreaker's Game

28 - Get Out, We Don't Want You!

Heather’s POV

I ran to the kitchen, hot tears pouring down my face but I didn’t care. Everyone looked up and was surprised to see me crying but I ignored them and pushed the back door opened. I needed time for myself.

I needed to be alone.

I need to get away from everything. I would run to the rooftop of my apartment, but I was so far from it so I have to stick to the back alley.

So I ran to the stairs, crouched down and cried, my heart searing with pain. My hair covered my face and some stuck to my cheeks as fat tears rolled down to the ground, making their mark on the ground.

“Your parents threw you out of your house because they didn’t want you,” Jared said harshly. “They thought you were worthless, a good-for-nothing, a waste of time and money. They threw you out because they hated you. All you ever did was brought back disappointment. Your parents abandoned you.”

I cringed as I felt a sharp pain attacking my poor heart all over and over again. It hurts so badly. I wanted it to stop, but no matter how hard I willed for it to stop, it never did. If anything, the pain only grew worse.

“Mother . . . Father . . . why?” I cried.

I once had a family. I had a mother and father who loved me so much. They used to smile at me and call me their little angel. Why did that change? Why did, as I was growing up, did they start hating me, start hitting me, starting yelling at me?

Because I’m a good for nothing.

I still remembered that day my parents kicked me out. I remembered it clearly like it only happened yesterday and not a few years ago.

With each step back home after my after-school activities around evening time, I was filled with anxiety, dread and fear. What are my parents going to do to me once they see how bad my report card is? They’ll probably hit me and yell at me again.

I looked down when I walked through the front door. The insides of my stomach twisted into a knot when I realized my parents were home. Did my teacher call them to tell them about my bad grades again?

“Heather, is that you?” my father said from the living room. His voice was filled with anger. “Come in here.”

Oh, no.

Hanging my head low, I walked toward the living room where I was not surprised to find the disappointment in my parents’ faces.

“Mother, Father, I – I can explain,” I stuttered, standing at the doorway. Maybe if I stay here, I’ll have time to turn and run if Father comes to hit me.

“Come and sit down,” Mother ordered.

I had no choice but to shuffle my feet over to the sofa where I gingerly plonk my butt on the spongy-like sofa. I cringed, bracing myself for the worst. They exchanged glances and Father nodded at Mother, indicating for her to start whatever they wanted to talk to me about.

Mother stood up and strolled to me. Fuming with rage, she slapped me. I felt dizzy and my ears were ringing but I continued to look straight, willing myself not to cry. She stepped back, her large, prominent eyes appearing to be popping out of their orbits with wrath.

“Heather,” my father said tiredly, “your mother and I do not earn very much. We work very hard to earn enough money not just to pay for the house rent and the food bills, but for your education as well. Are you not happy with what we do for you that you should not care about your schoolwork?”