Friday, June 4, 2004

Result of earlier post

I tried just writing it out, but the only way I could was in a sort of story form. It helped me going over the details. Sort of.

I won't cry, I tell myself as I pull into the driveway. Whenever I get in arguments that seem very unfair I always cry. Even though I'm not really that sad about it, it seems to be a natural response when I get in an argument I'm passionate about. The truck is pulled out to the end of the driveway showing that at one point, Craig Michael had gone out to play basketball. I park the van in front of the cobblestone walk and shut off its engine. I sit there for a moment, waiting for the sound of Tilwyn barking, but everything is quiet. He must be napping.

I pull my things from the car methodically, making sure I had a secure hold on everything. As I walk to the garage door I recall the idea of just leaving the memory cards on the counter by the PS2. As I walk through the inside garage door I struggle to unzip my shoulder bag, not wanting to stop.

I drop all of the games and the cards on the counter and start to walk away, but then I think better of it. Just another reason for everyone to yell at me if I leave them out in the counter. I take the PS1 card and move over to the PS2, struggling to push it into it's slot. I hear footsteps now. I could recognize them as my brothers. I steeled myself, reminding myself that I shouldn't be mad at him.

But when I turned and saw him standing awkwardly by the counter, avoiding my eyes, my resolve disappeared. He didn't say a word as I sifted through the piles of video games, yanking out the one that held the PS2 card. He's inching toward me now, probably to sit down at the video game chair and prep the game he so desperately wanted- needed- to play. I glare at his forehead, since that's the only thing he allows me to see at my eye level. My hands fumble with the game box and it drops to the counter. Frustrated, I hold it down with my other hand and yank the card out.

Craigs right in front of me now and he finally looks at me. I don't change my expression. I shove the card- hard- into his chest, which he reaches up and holds it there, giving me a look mixtured of confusion and annoyance. He's in my way and he seems to think I would turn around and go around the chair. 

"You can get out of my way," I say to him, and he slowly moves to the side of the chair and I shove past him, grabbing the games. Might as well put them away since I started cleaning up after myself. I can hear Craig settling himself in the chair and putting the game in the PS2. I don't look at him. 

I notice my animes are in the video game shelf. I start pulling those out and fixing the mess when I hear another pair of footsteps. Heavier. Dad's. I don't turn to watch him walk into the kitchen. I keep doing my job. He doesn't wait for my attention.

"Is this what you call nine o'clock?" he asked, none to softly.

I tensed and I turned and looked at him. "I never said nine."

"You said nine!" he moves toward me, his voice rising.

"No I didn't," My voice grew small- irking me. The will to fight suddenly cowered. "I didn't say nine, I said in a few hours. Around nine."

"You told me nine, I told you nine. This isn't nine o'clock."

It was around 9:30, my clock was fast in the van. Those were the last numbers I had seen since I pulled up in the driveway.

"I'm sorry, I was talking to nana and-"

I'm not sure if I kept talking or if I just stopped. It didn't matter anyway since my dad had interrupted almost as soon as sorry left my lips.

"You're not sorry!"

He said more, but at that point there was a dull rushing noise in my ears. There was that good old fighting adrenaline. He was right in front of me now, almost leaning on the corner of the wall, glaring down at me. I didn't feel intimidated. Just angry and at the same time, defeated.

"Well, why don't you tell me how I feel some more." I faintly recall reading these words elsewhere, but it was quickly pushed from my mind due to the situation.

"You feel like going to your room." he responds, retreating to the middle of the room. 

"Fine," I said, and turned away from him to gather my anime. I knew he was watching me and I was angry. Did he feel that he was in the right? That he was the one being wronged? I still had the Bible mom and I shared and it was preventing me from grabbing my things. I turned and walked around the corner, out of his sight, shoving it into her shelf next to her bed. I could hear him walk away, but I knew he wouldn't leave. I knew he would be hovering near by undoubtedly ready to watch me like a hawk as I went upstairs.

I went back out into the kitchen and glanced at the TV screen. Craig had started playing his game. I looked away, grabbing my anime and sweeping it into my already full arms. I walked determinedly towards the door to the dining room and dad appeared. He was looking at me, glaring, looking angry. As I passed him, I returned the stare, though I'm not sure what my face looked like. A form of anger, I suppose. I didn't look back as I walked through the door to the stairs sliding my hand against the handle so it would shut behind me. The things were beginning to fall out of my arms as I climbed the stairs. The door slammed and I flinched in response, turning to regard it, wondering if my father would open it and yell for slamming it. I hand't stopped climbing and nor had my things stopped falling from my arms. One of my sweaters slithered from beneath my arms and I stepped on it. 

I fell forward, landing hard on the stairs, my toes digging against the carpet to keep from tumbling back down. I didn't move for a moment, leaning hard against the edge of the stair. I didn't want my dad to open the door and see me. 

So I gathered my things and went up here.

I wish Shauna were on AOL.

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