All she's ever wanted was to be heard...
"Get out of this house, NOW!" My mother screamed at me. She took a swig from the vodka bottle she was holding in her hand then threw it at me. I ducked in time so it didn't hit me in the face. "Are you even listening, you worthless piece of --"
I covered my ears so I couldn't hear the word. I've never liked cuss words.
My mother stomped over to me and picked me up by my throat and looked me in the eyes. Her eyes were wet with tears, as if she was torn to see me hurt. "I'm giving you five minutes to get your stuff, and get the heck out of my house." Her yellow teeth were clenched tightly together.
My whole entire body shook with fear, and she let go of my neck. I slid down against the wall and stared at her for a moment. Her lips began to move and form numbers. 1, 2, 3... she began.
I stood up and just bolted out the door. I didn't care for clothing or money or anything else. I just wanted out of there. I had to run away. Go find somewhere to live. I didn't care if I had to live in a cardboard box, it was something. My life was a wreck, and I hated it. So, why can't someone just take it already?
I ran. Ran as fast as I could. Ran until my legs hurt. My throat was hot and dry, and I was thankful that it began to rain. It was pouring down hard. Streetlights flickered, and cars passed by, their lights blinding me. I slowed down and ran into an alley.
I hit the brick wall as hard as I could, ignoring the pain, and began to cry. Hot tears streamed down my face, and I fell to my knees. I cradled my own face in my palms and just let everything flow.
I was unwanted, yes. I'd known that for awhile. But I'd honestly never think to see the day my mother would kick me out. She was abusive, yes, but mostly when she was drunk... Though, that was often. She used to be very loving and calm. But ever since dad died, she'd been a monster. And I've hated her since.
Yes. I was very unwanted.