The October Series

October 7th: Anger

My teenage angst has morphed into something more than just mood swings, it's crazy, delirious, you could say psychotic, but I don't like to put labels on myself. I'm not your average girl, I have anger management problems, and I lose my temper all the time. All the time. I often fight with my stepmother. She's the devil, and before you make up your mind of the stereotypical stepmother who has horns and locks you in your room and doesn't feed you, she's not like that. She just acts like she's my mom like she has a right to tell me what I can or can't do. It's annoying. She can be a pain. I go to a therapist weekly because of my anger issues. She tells me that I'm just being a teenager and that everyone is going through something similar. That can't be right. How

can the happy girls in class who fiddle with their phone all day, feel like me? How can the overachieving nerds who get As in everything, feel like me? How can the cool, calm, collected kids in school feel like me? How can popular kids feel like me? How can the jokesters and class clowns feel like me? How can anyone feel the way I feel? How can anyone feel overcome with rage and anger and the need to see blood spill? I've said too much. I'm a freak. No one knows what I feel like. Not my dad. Not my stepmom. Not the kids in school. And certainly not the clueless therapist who doesn't even know me. I don't agree with the concept of therapy. I think it's useless to have some lady with a certificate tell me to breathe in and out slowly. Therapists are overpriced yoga instructors. I

also hate yoga, on a separate tangent. I didn't want to go, and my dad honestly didn't care if I went or if I didn't, but my stepmother insisted.
"It'll help you!", she said, "It's fun, you get to open up about your feelings. It'll help us function as a family".
Since when was she part of my family? Since when was she trying to function? She wasn't my mother, she was my father's side piece, and a real witch too because there is no way this idiot would have won custody, along with my clueless, careless dad who neglected me all the time. I hated my stepmom. One day, the internet was malfunctioning. I needed to get to my online classes and it just wasn't working. It

sounds stupid, but I was under a lot of stress. My strategy is to find the root of the problem. You can't cut off branches or leaves, because they regrow. When you cut off the roots, there is no tree. I can conclude that there were three roots. One, I am extremely impatient and when something loads for more than 15 seconds, I lose my mind. Two, I am obsessed with being on time, and missing something or being late just sets all the alarms off in my head. Third, my dad was working and the only person who could help me out was my stepmother. With problems one and two already on my mind, I didn't need her adding to the load, but what else could I do. I went downstairs, she helped me out and we both concluded that the internet was just down.

I started to lose my temper and smacked the table as hard as I could.
"Hey!", she yelled, "Control your temper".
"What a hypocrite", I muttered under my breath.
"How dare you?", she yelled.
"You freak out all the time, don't tell me about tempers", I said to her.
"That's it!", she yelled, "I am sick of you and your sassy attitude. Your mother is on the other side of the globe at this point, so you're stuck with me, me, and only me. Respect me because I am your mother".

I lost it at that point because I could not believe her. I stood up and every bit of common sense left my body. I was ready. That need for pain and destruction was growing faster than ever. Without thinking I walked to the locked liquor cabinet, took out my hairpin, opened it, grabbed my father's pistol, and pointed it at her.
"You are not my mother", I yelled. I held the pistol high in the air and struck her right through the ribs. She yelled and cried. I felt so satisfied and calm as if all that rage I had bottled up inside had just evacuated my being. My father walked up to see what was the commotion, but I shot him too. There I lay, happy as could be. They were out of my life. All

I had to do was buy a plane ticket. I was going to find my mom.