Page 36 of Bullied By The Bad Boy

You said we make you happy. How are you happy without the source of your happiness?

AJ wants his mom. I want my mom too. I miss her. I miss your forehead kisses. I might have complained a lot, but I miss you coming to our room at night to kiss us goodnight. At school, when other parents show up for PTA and Thanksgiving feast, I am the one who has to attend because you say you will be there, but you never keep to your word, and you never apologize.

It is never your fault. You are too busy being the trophy wife to a multimillionaire and a mother to his pedophile daughter to care about me and AJ. After his games, games he no longer loves to play, I have to pick him up. I love AJ, but I would like to be a normal teenager for once in my life, to truly experience high school, do things regular teenagers would do, fight and drink at parties.

I am tired of being so responsible all the time. I want to go to a party and not have to check the time because I fear I’ll overstay, or I am too busy worrying about AJ to actually enjoy the party. I want to try and drink at least once because it looks cool. You probably think my ideas are stupid, and I know they are stupid, but that’s the point. I want to do something stupid for once without thinking of the consequences.

Do you know I have never had a girlfriend? I have never even kissed a girl. Everyone at school thinks it must be easy to get any girl I want, and maybe they are right, but every time I try to talk to one of the girls, I see your stepdaughter and am reminded of all the times she put her filthy hands on me. The times she made me touch her in places a kid should never be allowed to touch an adult. All the times I cried to you that she was molesting me, and you didn’t believe your son, your baby. You said I was your baby and you would always love me, but you chased me out of your room when I came to tell you. Do you remember? You said in your own words that I will be grounded until thy kingdom comes if I utter such nonsense again. But what was so hard to believe? That she touched me? I have never lied to you, mom. Mom, why? You broke my heart.

You have ruined me, mom. It’s unfair that you get to move on, live your life normally and be happy while I am this broken boy who has to take care of AJ because, at the end of the day, he’s all I have got, and I am all he has got because you never come through for any of us.

YOU RUINED OUR FAMILY

I really hope you are happy, mom. Really happy. I hope Jack slits his throat the next time he shaves. I hope you cut your finger the next time you are making club sandwiches. I hope she chokes on her smoothie or dies from food poisoning while eating her nasty salad. I hope I make enough money, so I never have to accept help from you again. I wish dad didn’t have to die. I wish we didn’t miss you. I wish I had my own money. I wish you never went out that morning to get us donuts because you would never have met Jack. I wish we didn’t put your happiness before ours by encouraging you to go on that date with him. The date that changed everything.

Daddy might have been a bad husband to you, but he was a good father to us, and I wish you had died in his place. I hate you, mom. I hate that you still exist while he rots in the ground. I hope you die very soon.

All my hate,

Your once beloved boy.

Hot tears roll down my cheeks. I drop the letter on the bed and hug my pillow to my chest. Guilt stabs me. I shouldn’t have read the letter. I don’t know him, but I am hurting for him. It’s all too much for a teenager to bear. I clench my eyes shut. To think I always thought I had problems.

More tears leak out of my eyes. I tighten my hold on the pillow and cry for the little boy in the letter who misses his mother. The teenage boy who wants to be a normal high schooler. The poor kid who was molested by his stepsister, and his younger brother who has to deal with it all.

I snuggle under the cover and pull it over my head. A message from Maria pops in. I switch off my phone without checking it and slide it under my pillow. Someone knocks on the door. I hide my face in the pillow with no intention of moving. I can always say I didn’t hear them knock.

The knocking ceases, and I curl into a ball. I don’t want to think of Lett. I don’t want to imagine him to be one of those students I call names behind their backs. The bed dips under the new weight, and the cover is yanked off my head. I open my eyes to see Mom staring worriedly at me. She touches my cheek with the back of her hand and feels my forehead to ensure I’m not running a temperature. I manage to offer her a small smile. She is not like Lett’s mom. She will never leave Hayden or me.

“Honey, are you okay?” I am more than okay because I have her and Dad. They will always be a couple. They will always love me no matter what. “Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”

My tear dam bursts open once more. I lurch myself into her arms and cry into her chest. She tries to pry my hands off her, but I hold on tight. I don’t know the boy behind the letter, but I feel his pain and am thankful for the things I have, even the little ones I might have taken for granted.

I am thankful for Daddy and his busy shifts.

I am thankful for Mom and her warm hugs.

I am thankful for Hayden and his brotherly love.

Mom rubs circles on my back, and my cries eventually reduce to hiccups.

“I’m sorry if I’ve not been the best daughter to you,” I say, my voice a bit muffled from the tears.

“Sweetheart, you are the best daughter a mother could wish for.” I pull away to peer at her face, and sure enough, she’s telling the truth. She tears up a little. “You and Hayden are the best kids.”

“Okay,” I whisper.

Mom dabs my cheeks with the heels of her palms. “Is that why you’re crying?” I nod. She tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and cups my cheeks, so I can’t avoid her gaze. Staring into my eyes, she mutters, “Don’t cry. You are a good daughter. My favorite daughter.” I laugh, and she plants a kiss on my forehead. I hug her again. “Did someone say something to you at school?”

See why I love her. She’s the best mother on earth. I love her always. “No. I’m just grateful.”

Twenty-Three

“You are acting strange,”Maria comments.

We are back to being best friends, but I can’t say the same for her and Daniel. She doesn’t want to hear his name, doesn’t want to talk about him. The video is still out there. She’ll die if it goes viral. I pretend to mull over her words, and she slaps my forehead. I didn’t miss this part of her.

“How strange?” I finally ask.

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