Page 3 of Creep
An immense pressure radiates throughout my torso and I bring the palm of my hand to the center of my chest, attempting to rub the pain away. After all of the years of hell I have endured, I didn’t think I had any pieces of my heart left to break, but I still find myself standing in her doorway, watching my mother choose drugs yet again.
No matter how many times I witness it, which is more than I’d ever admit, it always hurts the same. I tell myself every single time she lets me down, this will be the last time I will cry over her—over them—and what they put us through. Yet, I stand here, at the cusp of another break down. My eyes burn with unshed tears, but I refuse to release them over her. Fuck her and fuck them both for choosing their addiction over us. I don’t know how much longer I can deal with their problems. I’m losing my mind.
Unable to stomach being in the same vicinity as her any longer, I retreat to my bedroom, or literally any fucking where else as long as it’s away from her, but I halt my movements when I hear the front door slam so hard against the wall, it shakes the fucking house.This night just got even more entertaining—and not in a good way.
I have a feeling tonight's going to be downright grim—but it’s not just a feeling—it’s a fucking fact. My parents fought, Ben left, and now he’s back in an even worse mood than he left in.
It’s moments like these I miss wishing on the stars. They gave me the hope I needed to stay strong, but no. They got ripped from me just like everything else did.
I take a much needed deep breath, making the effort to prepare myself to deal with my father—if I can even call him that. He’s not biologically my father, which I found out a few days after the first time.
I had been lying in bed for days, not eating, not drinking, just lying there, broken. He came into my room and I can still remember the instant terror I felt deep in my soul. He fucking terrified me, but I stayed silent. He sat next to me and began rubbing my leg, from thigh to knee, inching higher on each swipe of his hand. Too frozen to move, I just scrunched my eyes shut, struggling to block out his touch.
He brought his hand to my face and pulled it towards him. “Essa, I need to talk to you.” I didn’t answer, hoping if I didn’t, he would just leave. “The other night was one of the best nights of my life, sweetheart. You are so fucking sweet, but I need you to know something. I am not your biological father. I’m not sure if you know what that means, but you’ve always been pretty smart, so maybe you do. Anyway, it means I’m not your real father.
“Your whore of a mother fucked some guy for drugs shortly after Holley was born and she got pregnant with you. You were never wanted, but I just wanted to tell you, for the first time since you were born, I’m happy you’re here ‘cause now you can finally be mine.”
Everything he told me caused my head to spin. He wasn’t my real father? Who was then? Why did he hurt me? Why did he say “I’m his” now?
I was so confused and his hand on me was not helping. It made me feel dirty all over again. The tears welled, then fell down my cheeks. I couldn’t help them from falling, it was all too much.
I frantically shake my head in hopes of distorting my thoughts and make my way to the kitchen to make sure it’s actually Ben who is here and not some druggie my mom invited over to fuck—which actually happens a lot believe it or not.
My father walks into the kitchen and my feet stutter in their tracks when I spot the look on his face. A look telling me he wants to fucking kill someone—that someone being my mother or probably even me at this point. My life is a whole ass fucking party.
I muster up every ounce of strength I have left and look Benjamin in the eyes, trying to decipher his mood. I don’t know why I try, because he leers at me with eyes so cold and dark, they see right through me. Goosebumps run up my arms to my neck.
Fear.
It’s my constant companion and has been for the past ten years. It has decided it’s not leaving me tonight, or anytime soon for that matter. Ben doesn’t speak a word to me as he shoves his way past me, making his way to his room. I suck a deep breath into my lungs as I try to calm the tension radiating over my entire body. I fucking hate being afraid, because it makes me feel like a coward.
I know as soon as he sees my mom in their room getting high he’s going to lose his shit and surprise surprise, I’m right. I walk behind him, ever the mediator, ready to jump in and stop their fight from becoming a catastrophe Holley will become involved in. I hate being the one to deal with this shit, but it’s my job. Holley may be older than me—only by a year—but ever since that night, I have felt the burden of our family has fallen on my shoulders.
Still to this day, she has no idea what happened to me, or what continues to happen, and I do everything in my power to keep it that way. It’s not something she should ever feel laden with when there is nothing that can be done about it. What’s done is done. My one goal for the night is to keep Ben and Sierra’s fighting to a minimum, and to keep Holley from waking up. I don’t want her to end up in the middle of their drama. I love my sister more than anything, but she can’t cope or deal with the bullshit our parents spew. She’s too damn positive and too damn forgiving. Which means it all ends up falling to me.
When he gets to their door, he kicks it open. The door smacks against the drywall and the handle leaves a dent in the wall. Once I’m close enough, I take in my mom flying around the room. Shit is strewn everywhere and she’s mumbling to herself saying some shit like she’s looking for the wires she knows the Feds planted in their room.Always on the bullshit about the Feds. As if they give a shit about a couple of lowlife drug addicts.
Even across the room I can tell her pupils are blown, showing nothing but black.Jesus fucking Christ, how much did she smoke?When I saw her not even five minutes ago, she wasn’t high yet. But then again, she was left alone with a full baggie and no Ben around to help smoke it.
Benjamin takes one look around the room with pure disdain in his eyes before he begins screaming and flailing his arms around the room as he storms toward her. “You stupid fucking bitch! Did you smoke all my shit?”
“What the hell are you talking about, Benny? I haven’t done a single damn thing but wait for you to get back! You left me, you piece of shit!” My mother screams right back at him.The screaming match has begun.
“Ohhh. You don’t know what I’m talking about, huh, Sierra? Always running your goddamn mouth. Why don’t you just shut the fuck up and give me my shit you better still have. Can’t deal with you fuckin’ sober.” He storms over to their bed where the pipe lays and picks it up, checking to see if it’s still loaded. Without a care in the world, he brings the torch to the rounded end and starts smoking it right in front of me. Usually, they try to avoid doing anything around Holley and I, thank fuck, but apparently he doesn’t give a shit tonight.
“Are y’all fucking kidding me right now? You’re screaming at each other at the top of your lungs about getting high when Holley is right down the hall? We all already know you don’t give a shit about me, but Holley doesn’t need to hear this bullshit and you fucking know it.
“I get you don’t give a fuck about anything but putting that glass dick in your mouths. But, you should at least respect Holley. We are all aware her knowing what’s going on will just make our lives far more complicated than they need to be!” I shoot my eyes over to Ben as the last of the words leave my mouth. I want him to know I’m talking about him, but I know he already does.
My chest is heaving as if I ran a marathon, my anger consuming me, but my anger is quickly replaced with the ever loved feeling of fear. It seeps back into my pores full force because I just did something so fucking stupid and I know I’m going to pay for it later.
My father flings his demon eyes over to mine, squints, and cocks his head to the side. All I can see is the rage in them. Rage somehow strong enough to override the high he just gave himself.
“What was that, Essa? What the fuck did you say,sweetheart?” He sneers that nickname, his lip turning up in disgust at the same time.
Oh fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.I royally fucked up by losing my temper and running my mouth. I’ve always struggled with keeping my mouth shut and I’m regretting it right about now.
The only time that nickname leaves his mouth in reference to me is when he wants to hurt me. He stalks forward, advancing on me. Every step forward of his, is one step backwards for me. I don’t know where to move to because there is nowhere I can hide where he won’t find me.
