Crusin' On Vacation

14| I Also Look Like I Just Rose Up From The Dead.

Day 8: I Also Look Like I Just Rose Up From The Dead.

This was all my fault.

Never in my entire life had my father hit a woman, or even threatened to hit a woman. In any case, he preached against it. He absolutely despised abusive men, and had given speeches about it countless times in so many places, had staged interventions for women who were under trauma, and had provided for women who were left with nothing because of the men that used them.

You can only imagine my shock when he hit my mother last night.

I, for one, understood why he did that, thought it didn't excuse his behaviour.

I'd heard the story one too many times of why he couldn't make it to my birth. He'd always tell me from time to time when I was a little girl, just to make it clear to me, claiming he'd feel guilty for not being able to make it at that time. My mother had given a low blow when she said that yesterday. After all, she knew my father had to go to my grandmother's funeral. She was his mother after all, he had to go pay his respect to her.

I still couldn't understand though. What point were they trying to prove, anyway? That they were tired of each other? Yeah, they'd proven that to me and I'd gotten the hint loud and clear.

It was safe to say my parents didn't love each other anymore. I gave a bitter scoff. I managed to deceive myself into thinking I could save their marriage, that they would at least try and stay together because of me.

I had to admit, they put up quite a scene yesterday. With everyone watching and some cameras that were pulled out, this would probably make the headlines. The great Raymond Lynn of Lynn Industries raised a hand to his wife, Riya Lynn.

My family was messed up, even if it wasn't exactly a family.

I didn't want to see my parents any time soon, and I had the feeling I could say the same for them. I couldn't face them after yesterday, no. I just couldn't. I wasn't sure if I would be able to look at my father without seeing the man that slapped my mother, or, look at my mother without seeing the woman who said such vile things.

All night, I hadn't slept. Everyone helped me calm down, even though it took a while. I thought I would die honestly, because that was the worst panic attack I'd ever had. I kept thinking about everything that happened the night before.

When I finally calmed down, Thomas, who had insisted on staying with me finally left, after he tucked me in, even with my protests. I didn't sleep. Instead, I just layed down there, looking at the ceiling hoping for some kind of consolation.

And here I was now, still staring at ceiling, not doing anything but getting lost in my anger and sadness filled thoughts. I so desperately wanted to stop going around in circles in my head. In short, my head was a mess compared to my wardrobe back home.

I got a few texts from people, mostly from Tatiana, because she felt guilty. She kept saying she could've done something but couldn't do it in the end, and I kept assuring her it was really no big deal, she couldn't do it and that was okay.

Oh, but if only she knew.

While I sweet talked her, I wanted to take my anger out someone or something. It was the first time I'd felt this way since the whole Ashton fiasco.

It was funny, really. I fooled myself into thinking Ashton and I were going to be a thing, the same way I fooled myself into thinking I could fix my parent's relationship.

My life was just fan-freaking-tastic!

If I ever even gave relationships a chance after this, then boy I must be possessed.