I Didn't Go To School | Teen Ink

I Didn't Go To School

April 17, 2015
By Penina BRONZE, Takoma Park, Maryland
Penina BRONZE, Takoma Park, Maryland
4 articles 0 photos 1 comment

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"Food is one of my favorite parts of the day" -Jennifer Lawrence


I suppose I didn’t really think it through. In hindsight, the rash act of taking all my savings out of my bank account, stealing my moms car and taking off to who-knows-where without warning wasn’t one of the best calls I had ever made. But all I knew was that I could not stand a moment in that hell hole that one could call a house. It had lost the title of home a long time ago. The moment my dad walked out the front door never to return, any comfort and security a home was associated with disappeared with him.
My hands tightened on the cold plastic of the steering wheel under my hands; god even our car was crappy. A sick metaphor for my life; grasping at useless pieces of crap that in an effort to hold control and keep my head above water.  Images of the morning flashed through my mind and my skin crawled from the anger that bubbled inside me, threatening to escape and somehow explode.

******************

“Kaelyn, come meet Henry!” My mother called, her voice unnaturally high-pitched and girly, earning an eye roll from me. Standing up from my bed reluctantly, I trudged out of my room, shuffling my feet against the hardwood floor in an effort to prolong the interaction as long as possible. I honestly didn’t see the point in meeting these jerks anymore; they were all the same.
As I walked down the narrow hallway my eyes traveled up at the walls. I ran my fingers over the spaces where family pictures used to hang; pictures of me, my mother, my father. Even the thought of him sent a harsh pang through my body and I clenched my hand into a fist, digging my nails into my hand to focus the pain somewhere else.
“There you are Sweetie,” my mother cooed and I grimaced, not even bothering to hide my disgust. “This is Henry.” I eyed the man skeptically, looking him up and down. He’s wasn’t what I would call attractive, with a floppy excuse for hair and muddy brown eyes. A fake smile was plastered across his face and I crossed my arms over my chest, rejecting the hand he held out to shake.
“It’s so nice to meet you,” he said in a voice so sickly sweet I wanted to vomit. My mother looked up at him with an affection so strong I wanted to shake her and cry, “wake up from this dream.” But I knew that nothing I could do could break her out of the state of blindness she was living; a life where the drunks and scum she brought home are nothing but good men. She thought they actually loved her, loved her for more than her stunning beauty. No, they loved because she was gorgeous and easy. I had no sympathy left to give for my mother; she’d taken it, used it and stomped on it every single time.
She thought I didn’t hear every time those men called her a s*** or a w****. She thought I didn’t hear every sickening slap that hit her face. She thought I didn’t hear every beer can that got popped open and thrown away. But most of all, she thought I didn’t hear every sob she let out every time one of them broke her heart. She thought I didn’t hear anything.
“Honey, get me a beer,” Henry said, looking over at my mother. She eagerly replied, breaking away from his patronizing grasp to go rummage through our small fridge.
“Yeah, I gotta get to school,” I muttered before shoving past him. The only sound that met me as I left the house was the loud slamming of the door; no goodbye, no have a good day, no be good, no I love you. I stopped hoping a long time ago my mother would care about me. But some small part of me still wished that something, anything would come out of her mouth to show that there was some part of her that still cared. But like I said, I learned a long time ago to stop hoping.

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I didn’t go to school. Instead I hopped in my mom’s car, drove to the bank and withdrew all the money I had saved up, and sped away, leaving the haunted town I had been suffocated in for so many years. I didn’t have the slightest inkling as to where I was going, but at the moment, I didn’t care. My ears filled with the loud lyrics of Fall Out Boy lamenting their broken hearts and the wind whipping my hair wildly around my shoulders, I almost felt like I could breathe. Almost.



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