Detached

It was an overcast day, mom and dad fighting like always. We sit and watch. As an hour goes by, Jennifer and I just walk away. The pain. The stress. The worry. All these feelings rush through me. I'm Carlos, a fourteen year old boy living with two unhappy parents and in the process of getting a divorce and a three year old sister by my side, always. I think to my self, what will happen when the divorce is final, and I have to choose who I want to live with. I sigh, sadness is like a heavy rain cloud just following me everywhere I go. "Tarlos, I sweepy." Jennifer cries to me. "Okay, baby girl." As I lay the clueless two year
old down in her crib, I think what is she going to say when mommy and daddy aren't there to wake her up. Around twelve o'clock, I try to sleep, but I can't . But wait, the arguing stops, I hear a door
slam. My dad is gone. One tear comes, and then millions. My dad is gone.