Cast Out

• Aimee Dooley, Grade 10
• Poetry
• 2011

Cast Out

Where did it go wrong? It’s not my fault that dad kicked me out. I mean, honestly what have I done to deserve this? How was I supposed to know that Justin was a user? It’s not like it’s a big deal anyway, dad didn’t even listen to me to begin with. Justin’s always been his favourite. It all began when I came home after school that chilly afternoon three months ago.
“Louise is that you?” Dad calls.
“Looou?” He calls getting more and more impatient.
“Louise May Wellington! Come here now.” He snaps. I drop my bag and bend over to begin the effort that involves my shoes.
“Coming.” I reply.
As soon as I enter the room I notice there is a shoe box containing white powder in packages. I glance up sensing movement to my left. Justin; goody-two-shoes, A+ student and dad’s favourite child.
“Lou, are you an addict?” Dad’s says always upfront, I glance at the box again.
“Lou, are you an addict?” He repeats slowly.
“What? No, you know I wouldn’t…” I begin.
“I know Justin wouldn’t. Sometimes I wonder about you.”
I stare dumbfounded. I have never touched drugs in my life. Mum would’ve believed me I know she would.
“Lou,” Hesitating, he continues “I’m sorry but I can’t have a user and a liar in my house.”
“But…” I begin, my voice falters so instead I glare at Justin it’s his fault after all. I caught him once, while dad was at work. He had a straw and was leaning over his desk, looking very guilty indeed.
“So… that’s it then?” I ask turning to face dad, determined to not let my grief show.
He nods sadly. I rush upstairs in anger, frustration and betrayal. I grab my phone, wallet and car keys; my vision blurred by tears. I storm out the door knowing I will never darken it again. I drive on the highway for four hours then turn off to the city exit. What am I doing? I can’t survive on my own… My life sucks, but I can’t go back home; not to that. Not to the lies, betrayals and heart ache that is my family.

I honestly don’t have any idea how I survived those first few weeks. I often slept in my car; until it was stolen. Without a job I wouldn’t have long until my money ran out. Throughout the months that I’ve been here I have been chased by cops, been an object of ridicule and not once has dad tried ringing me.
“Why is my life like this?” I ask to no one, as I walk the footpath in the darkness, headed towards City Park. Snowflakes landing on my exposed skin, melting, extracting what little warmth I have. I hear something shuffling in the snow in the park.
“It just is.” A deep voice replies.
“Who are you?”
“Your friend. Come here, I’m in the park.” It says.
I glance at the safe protectiveness of the lights. Who cares? I turn and the darkness swallows me whole.