Through the entire ride home my mom and I were silent. When the car came to a stop in my driveway I jumped out raced up the steps and ducked inside. “Jamie!” called my mom. I went up the spiral steps to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. For a while the only sound I heard was the faint chirping of birds coming from outside my mini balcony. Then I heard my parents speak downstairs. I slightly opened my door and listened. It was my dad who spoke first.
“How is she?”
“She’s mourning but this has been going on for almost a week. I can’t bring her to that boy’s grave every day.”
That boy. Those two words echo echoed in my head like someone had shouted into a cave. Anger ran through my blood. I stomped down the stairs and burst into the kitchen ready for and all out battle. I first locked eyes with my mom.
“That boy?!!?” Anger dripped into my voice like acid. “That boy….was my LIFE!!! HOW DARE YOU, YOU, YOU….” No curse seemed harsh enough to call her. Immediately my dad jumped up to defend her.
“Jamie she didn’t mean that. Look we’re all a little on edge so maybe we need to get you some help.” my dad took a step towards as if he wanted to take me in his arms. But I stepped back out of his reach as if I was afraid his touch would burn me.
“NO! LISTEN TO ME BOTH OF YOU HAVE ALWAYS HATED HIM AND NOW THAT’S HE’S GONE YOUR BOTH HAPPY. I’M NOT CRAZY AND I’M NOT GOING TO A GOD DAMN SHRINK!!!!!” Never once in my life had I ever screamed at my parents. I felt the feeling of tears coming on but I swallowed them, no way were they going to see me break down. My dad looked fearful of me as if I was a scary monster that hid under his bed or in his closet. That look only made me angrier.
“Now Jamie were not happy that Zach died and you have no-”
“I HAVE EVERY RIGHT TO DO THIS TO YOU!! BOTH OF YOU. I….I HATE YOU!!!” I pushed passed both of them and ran outside right into the woods. And I didn’t stop until I found the worn deer path that led to the small pond. It was the only place I felt safe, the only place I felt him with me.
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