All Nonfiction Bullying Books Academic Author Interviews Celebrity interviews College Articles College Essays Educator of the Year Heroes Interviews Memoir Personal Experience Sports Travel & CultureAll Opinions Bullying Current Events / Politics Discrimination Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking Entertainment / Celebrities Environment Love / Relationships Movies / Music / TV Pop Culture / Trends School / College Social Issues / Civics Spirituality / Religion Sports / Hobbies
- Summer Guide
- College Guide
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Personal Experience
- Travel & Culture
- Current Events / Politics
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
- Community Service
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
She Just Has To
My parents had fought for months. The first few weeks, it was just constant, pointless bickering. This grew to be loud arguments that seemed to have no point either. It got so bad that my brother Daren and I would run up to my room and lock the door behind us. He was usually the one who caved first, but I was more than happy to get away from the screaming. When we were in my room, we could hear muffled voices from downstairs. There would be the clashing and banging of pots and pans and even the splintering sound of breaking glass. The slamming of doors shook the whole house, as my pictures on the wall would rattle and crash to the ground. As this went on, Daren and I would shut our eyes and listen to my mp3 player, as we blocked out the rest of the world and focused on the music. Our lives seemed to revolve around Guns ‘N Roses until finally, all was quiet.
Daren and I had stayed upstairs for those last few days because we were too scared to see the damage done by their fighting. Daren heard the front door slam and immediately took off his ear buds. “Someone’s gone,” he said, standing up. He peered through the crack in the door as someone climbed up the stairs. I heard pacing and quiet screaming, as if whoever was in the hallway was trying not to bother us, as if they hadn't already enough. “It’s Dad…Mom’s gone! Katie what do we do?” I stood up suddenly and looked through the crack, too.
“Oh, no.” I muttered. I turned away from the door.
“Katie, what’s going on? Why did Mom leave?”
“I don’t know!” I was reaching for my mp3 player, ready to isolate myself again when Daren ran over and snatched it from my fingers. “Hey! What are you doing? Give me it back!”
“No. You can not just act like this isn’t happening because this is real. Mom’s gone and we don’t even know if she’s coming back,” he paused and started fiddling with his shirt sleeve. He slowly looked up at me and spat out quickly,” You gotta go talk to Dad.”
I looked up at him suddenly, “WHY ME?”
“You’re the oldest!” Daren was on the verge of tears. “Come on Katie. I just want my mother back.” I stared him and saw all the pain that he held back that could have been released months ago if we hadn’t acted as we did. His tears slid down his face and his pasty skin was turning even paler than I thought possible. His eyes were heavy and his hands were shaking. He started panting quickly as I rushed to stand up.
“Okay, I’ll go.” I slipped on my fuzzy socks and slid toward the door. His face brightened as reached for the door knob and stepped into the hallway. Surprisingly, I was alone. My dad must have gone into his bedroom. I approached the door and knocked quickly. I waited for what seemed to be forever and put my ear to the door. There was banging and shrieks. I flew the door open just as my father hurled a chair at the wall.
There were scattered clothes throughout the room, and glass from the mirror was split. Wood was everywhere and his dresser was nearly broken in half. Dad continued his fit as I scanned the room with wide eyes. “Dad! What are you doing!?!” I said. He picked up a dresser drawer and threw it, high in the air. It smashed when it hit the ceiling and the remnants fell and showered down on my father’s head. I ran to him as he reached for a picture frame but before he could throw it, I had his hands in a hard grip. “Stop it! Daddy, stop it!” He tried to escape from my grasp but instead, he went still. He fell back on his bed and started crying into his hands.
“She’s gone.” He whimpered through tears. “She left me. She’s gone.” He bent down and stuck his head in his hands, covering his eyes. “I’m sorry. I am so sorry!” He said through sobs, almost impossible to understand. I put my arm around his shoulder and held him.
“It’s okay Dad. She’ll come back.” I said, unsurely. “She just has to.”