fifty-fourth street - n.j.h.

one

“No dad! I am absolutely sick of your bullshit!” I screamed at my father as I bursted into my bedroom rummaging through my closet to find a suitcase.

“You listen here Cal, if you don’t open this door right now I will break it down, and I bet you know exactly what’s going to happen after that!”

“You know what dad? Fuck you! I do not want to be near you anymore, you are so horrible to me and treat me like scum! And I’m so done with it!” Hot tears rolled down my cheeks and I felt the common soreness of my throat creeping in, this usually happens when I scream.

I opened every drawer in my room, stuffing loads of clothes in it, my hands shaking with anger. I didn’t know where I was going, but I knew it had to be anywhere but here.

 “I am counting to five and if this door isn’t opened by then, I am breaking it down you hear me young lady?” He shouted behind the door.

“I fucking dare you.” I said in the deepest voice, knowing that would set him off I quickly opened my window and jumped out. My feet landed on the ground fast, and the familiar cold breeze of New York had slapped me in the face.

I ran as fast as I could, past all the houses in our neighborhood, tears running down my cheeks and my heart feeling like it was about to explode from all the anger and fear within it. But there was a heavy weight lifted off my shoulders.

I finally left.

My dad was abusive. The typical drinker and alcoholic fourty-five year old man. After my mother died, he was insane. Literally, insane. At first he couldn’t believe it. First was sadness, then constant anger. Every damn night he would leave the house and not come back until four in the morning, stumbling into the house, his eyes bloodshot and his skin flaming red and sweaty. Just at this sight I could throw up. I would look at the man who raised me, and the only word that would come to my head was “disgust.” I knew exactly how to hit his nerves, and when I went off the edge and did, he would abuse me. Hit me, push me, scream, and throw lamps at the windows, breaking everything in his path. I knew that one day I would have to leave, I couldn’t bare to live with him anymore.

I began to slow my pace down because I couldn’t breathe after a while. I was walking in the dark of the night with only a bag around my back and a phone in my hand. I know that leaving my dad was the right decision, but this came to another problem. What now? Where will I go? What will happen? And then I knew, I am going to be homeless. I sat on the side of the road, panicked and afraid. The tears came in too quickly, and all I did was sit on the curb and sob. “Why, why, why, why, why?” I said through my tears and sobs. “Why me?” My life has been shit since day one. I’m seventeen now and I knew exactly where my life was going, downhill. I am such a smart student and I know I am about to graduate but I can’t go back. Even if I did, I knew that my future had no college in it. My father was too poor and he always loved to emphasize the fact that I had no chance. “You’ll never make it in to that damn college anyway. Sure you’re smart but you aren’t good enough. You never will be. Not to me, not to anybody.” So here I am, no friends, no family, no home, no food, nothing.

I am simply breathing, not living.