15 for 15 contest

Jan 16/Soup

Note to self: Message #1204952

"WHY ARE YOU ALWAYS SCREAMING AND YELLING ABOUT NOTHING?" Mom.

"WHY CAN'T YOU GET IT THROUGH YOUR BIG FAT f***ING HEAD? YOU JUST CAN'T FIND ANYTHING GOOD ABOUT ME!" Dad.

"OHHH I'VE HEARD THIS ONE BEFORE! MAYBE THERE IS NOTHING GOOD ABOUT YOU!"

"WHAT THE f*** DO YOU KNOW ABOUT ME? LET'S HEAR IT! I BET YOU DON'T KNOW JACK s*** ABOUT ME!"

And the war rages on.

My brother had his ipod on to the max, slurping his alphabet soup like nothing was wrong with the world. I looked at my own ipod on my lap-off and very mute...
Mute, like me.

I've always imagined being the brave one to step between my parents and get some sense into them and...maybe spark some romance back into them...

Yeah right... I drooped like a drenched clown.

SLAM. Dad.

SLAM. Mom.

Don't go... A wistful thought...I let it slip away.

I felt like my heart was swelling and a cold chill ran down my back.

Why...? I loved them both...I've had my share of love from both of them...It seemed so long ago now that my dad had hugged me.

"See you later, Sis." My brother dashed out the door.

The table shook from the impact my brother's weight made with the floor and some soup from my bowl swished out to hit me, square in the face.

I glanced around the brightly lit kitchen and smiled bitterly at the irony of it.

If this kitchen was really our kitchen...It'd be as dark as hell...

A gleam of light flashed my way and I scuttled to it.

A knife.

A world of possibilities unravelled in my head.

Slowly, but mechanically my hands were back on the soup bowl. I slushed some letters around and squeaked at every little creaking of the house I heard.

Smiling vaguely at my work, I led myself to my parents' bedroom. Their bed looked like a deserted battleground. A tear sprang in my eye but ignoring it, I laid myself gingerly on the snow-white sheets.

All of a sudden, memories of my parents hugging me in this very bed overwhelmed me and I couldn't hold the tears hostage anymore.

Biting my lips, I sunk the knife's gleaming edge into my heart.

Dad would come in first and read the soup bowl...

Lights were fading...
So cold...

I love you all so very much...