Messed Up

• Jill Bradfield
• Short Story
• 2021

“I HATE YOU!” I screamed at the top of my lungs at the sky. Rain falling on my face, washing away my tears. He had ruined my life. My beautiful, colorful world was fading to black and white. He kept coming for my love, me not even sure if he loved me at all. But it was also my fault too. It was my fault that, life was shit, that I had made my mother cry. He had torn me to pieces, torn my family to pieces. I had torn my family to pieces. Pain shot through my body, making me cringe. I hoped that this was all a dream, but alas, it was no dream that I would wish upon anyone, including myself. It was my fault I was going to maybe move schools far away from friends. it was my fault I would be moving to a different suburb, and to lose my phone, never to speak to my friends again. It was my fault that I had gotten myself grounded. But it wasn’t just my fault, it was his fault.

“I HATE YOU MALACHI!” I screamed to the sky, rain falling into my open mouth, silencing me. It was his fault that I did this. It was his manipulation that made me become a lying little brat. Every letter, every diary entry made me sick. I couldn’t even look in my diary to even write a word. I wish that I didn’t do it. Every dream I had, wishing they would disappear. Can this just end? Can’t this just go away? I don’t want him in my life anymore. He had ruined up everything I had tried to get back. Maybe I deserved this, that this was my fate. I tore my family apart and shattered my dreams. I was never going to be a cop. I was never going into the army. I was never going to be a forensics scientist. I really stuffed up this time. I really, really messed up. Maybe this is the end of the road for me.