Family...

• Samantha Davison, Grade 9
• Short Story
• 2009

“Get over your silly dream! It will never happen!” my mother yells from the couch taking a large gulp of her wine.”You can’t achieve anything more than a fisher mans daughter!”
“That’s not true,” I whisper.”If you had paid attention to me you’d see how smart I am.”
“You?" Smart? Don’t make me laugh! You can’t count past 10” she snickers.
Knowing she is wrong I reply smartly “Can you?”
She stops laughing, stands up and turns to face me “You disgrace me.”
It’s my turn to laugh. “I disgrace you? You’re the one who never pays attention. You came to my college interview drunk!”
“They wouldn’t of accepted you anyway.” She says bitterly.
I stare angrily at the woman who once loved me. “I’ll prove you wrong mother.” And with that walk out of the room. Her cackling laughter behind me makes me shiver.

“Kara! Get out of bed you lazy twit!” my father’s gruff voice yells.
I sigh unhappily and get out of bed. I walk over to my calendar that hangs on the bare walls. I grab the big red pen and cross off another day.
“Only three days left and I’m out of here.” I smile to myself and walk out of my room and down to my father’s room where he sits working on a net.
“Yes?” I ask him.
“Your mother wants to talk to you,” he says looking at me like I am a dead bug on his shoe.
I grimace at the man and leave him mumbling incoherent swear words behind me.
I walk into the kitchen and look at my mother’s murderous glare.
“You!” she points to me.
I stare back.
“You left this room a mess! You stupid ungrateful child!” she storms over to me and looks at me. Her brown eyes exploding with rage.
I look around the kitchen. The floor is littered with junk and the sink filled with smashed plates. The exact opposite of how I left it yesterday night before the fight with my mother.
“I ask you nicely to clean the kitchen and you don’t! Is it to much to ask!” she yells.
“I did,” I whisper.
She looks about ready to explode as she raises her hand to my face and hits me with brute force. I stumble sideways as she looks at me pathetically.
“Clean this mess up you stupid girl!” and with that she leaves the room.

The days end quickly and soon a letter telling me I’m invited to attend the best state college arrives and I happily skip into the house and walk right up to my mother.
“Read this,” I tell her.
She scans the letter and her eyes widen. She looks at me and shakes her head. “I hate you,” and stumbles out of the room.
I grab my bags from the door and call a taxi.
I don’t look behind me as I leave the house full of anger and hurt to a future of knowledge and happiness.