The Storms Must Pass (ON HOLD)

Chapter One: Departure

They were going to fight on their way back home. It was obvious. I wouldn't even call that place home. Home is where the heart is right? So will I die now that I'm running away from it? 

I wasn't even running away in that sense but it felt like that.  

Three years I had to wait for this. After seeing them in front of me like this I can truly believe it was worth the wait.  

"Just shut up Paul. Just …" My mother sneered at my dad. I couldn't help but admit she would've made a very pretty mother if not for her side acts and all year PMS behavior. I had clearly inherited her pretty black eyes and sharp nose. She was slightly plump but she went for a million classes like salsa, power yoga and kick boxing to keep her healthy, acting as if the smoking was never going to affect her. 

"What did I do wrong now? Wanting to help her with her suitcase is wrong? Sorry. I'll never ever help again." My father replied, anger rising in his voice.

"It's alright. I'm done," I pulled my suitcase out of my father’s frail hand and threw it onto my trolley. I turned when I was done to see my thin and ageing father. He  rubbing his bald head from the drops of sweat that had accumulated after the long and tiring day with his handkerchief, which was when I asked myself for the twentieth time that day if UK was worth it.  

I couldn't stay and see my parents aimlessly bicker over petty issues and not even think about me. I couldn't stay and wait for my mother to abuse me like she always did for no reason of mine. I couldn't stay and see my friends turning against each other just because of some gossip. But, when it came to my dad, I would rethink going to Britain for boarding school in seconds.

He was 65 and a workaholic. She was an alcoholic as well as a smoker. But did my father do anything about that? 

No. 

Did my father ever react to the times her love affair came home and acted as though there was nothing going on? 

No. 

Did my father do anything when she used too-

I felt tears swell up in my eyes just like every other time I thought about it. I quickly rubbed them off with the end of my red cashmere coat.  

"Oh my darling..." My father came and embraced me so tightly that I laughed knowing he still had that little energy within him. "Now, don't cry. You're my princess. My beautiful princess. And princesses don't cry." 

I croaked out a laugh and kissed him on his forehead, smiling inside knowing I was a good two inches taller than my 5'5 father. He was short but, who doesn't love an adorable, caring and generous little man? 

"Now listen to me, any complaint I hear..." My mother began, pulling me closer to her with the nails of her hand digging into my skin. 

"You won't hear anything," I dead panned. 

"Who knows, you might find some way to get out of trouble," She said looking at my tank top disapprovingly, as usual. To my mother, I am nothing but a second grade slut. She can never believe I have just about never had a boyfriend or a kiss, let alone sleeping with someone. But it's her after all. 

I submissively pulled up the front of my shirt to please her. She gave it another look before turning away.  

"Go! Your flight will leave and again we would’ve had to waste our hard earned money on you." She said bitterly over her shoulder.

'Our hard earned money'? 

She never earned a penny for the house.  

Damn it.