I’ve been up all night, wondering what I should do. My parents, drunk and high, are yelling at each other over god knows what. I feel unsafe here. . . I don’t feel at “home.” This household is toxic, and I know it, yet I haven’t really confessed to anyone, but Alex. What to do? What to do? I ask myself, not knowing the answer of what I should do. Should I leave now? No. I know I shouldn’t, yet I feel as I must. My parents are getting out of hand, and London isn’t feeling like home anymore. My friends, no, my peers at college wouldn’t miss me. I’m not one for social interaction, yet I feel as if should now. I'm about to grab my phone when my bedroom door swung open. My dad.
“Get downstairs and clean up!” his words slur together as he yells at me. “Now!”
I flinch and nod as I walk past him. Seeing how my dad is, well him, I don’t want to argue with him. I sigh and grab a rag as I look at their mess. Well, Mom and Dad always end up breaking something. . . A glass, Crown Royal bottle was shattered on the hardwood floor. The brown alcohol seems to be seeping into the floorboards, and I kneel down. A small piece of glass pricks my knee and I stand up. I wince slightly, looking back down at the mess. Guess I have to find the broom and dustpan. . . I walk away from the mess and look for the broom and dustpan. Where could they be? I search high and low for them, but I am unable to find them. I can’t leave it there nor ask where they are. . . I sigh and jump at the sound of the phone ringing. I walk over to it. My aunt. . .
“Hello?” I ask when I answer the call.
“Avri! Are you okay sweetheart?” she asks.
“Yes, Aunt Maggie, I’m fine. . . I’m just-- I’m just scared, that’s all,” I explain to her. I’m not lying to her like I usually do. Maybe it is time she finds out.
“Why? What did they do!?”
“N-Nothing,” I lie this time. She shouldn't have to worry about me when she has her own life to worry about. She’s about to lose her job for crying out loud!
“Avi. . . What did they do?” she asks again.
“Th-They got drunk. . . and high. . . a-again,” I stammer out.
“Oh no. . . Sweetie, this is going on for years now. You have to leave that awful house,” she says with a sigh.
“Avri Lang Lo!? I said clean up the mess!” my dad’s voice says.
I flinch and hang up on my aunt. Sorry, Aunt Maggie, but I had to. . . I hurry and find the broom and dustpan finally. I go back to the kitchen and start to clean. This’ll be a really long day. I sigh.
Merci pour la lecture!
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