Damn, I Hate You

"What the Hell took you so long?" Dad asked as I burst breathlessly through the door.

"Sorry, dad. We were working on our project and-"

"God, shut up! I don't care! Just get me some fuckin dinner and my beer." He yelled at me. Ok, so far, not too much trouble. I grabbed a box from the freezer and shoved it into the microwave, pressing two minutes and then racing to give my dad his drink. Maybe I wouldn't be in much trouble?

"So what's this stupid project you were supposedly working on?" He asked. Damn.

"It's this stupid writing assignment. A group is supposed to make a story outta poems. It's due Friday, so I might be doing it after school for the rest of the week." I said hesitantly.

"What kinda faggot assignment is that? Poetry? Who does she think you are? A woman?" He's so fucking ignorant.

"Haha. Yeah, it's retarded. Especially since we have to work with partners." I said. His food went off in the kitchen and I ran to get it. Don't forget the fork, dumbass!

"So why don't you just get your partner to do it for you?" He accused me as I sat down next to him.

"'Cause everyone in that class is stupid. I want an A this year, and I'm not gonna let some dumbass fuck that up for me." I replied.

"What makes you think you're so smart?" He asked, glaring at me.

I smiled a sly smirk. "You know I'm a genius." I turned to face the tv, a bit arrogant for him, but he seemed in a good enough mood to joke around.

Boy did I think wrong. "You're fuckin retarded, boy!" He yelled at me. Shit, is he really freaking out over this? "You can't even tell time, otherwise you'd'a been here on time to get me my fuckin food. And look at this house! Why don't you invent something to clean it if you're so smart!" He continued. God, shut up! "I mean, I created something to clean it up! That's why you're here! But there you go, off being a li'l fuck around with you're stupid friends doing some faggot-ass project!" He stood up. Suddenly I don't like where this is going.

He started his rage by flipping the coffee table. "Why don't you invent something to fix that?" he asked, then moved onto his empty dinner tray. "Why don't you think of some brilliant way to clean that up?" he asked. God, this is stupid!

"Dude, I'll clean it up! I may be a genius, but I'm lazy. I'll do it in a little bit if you want me to so badly!" I finally yelled at him. Fuck! Can't I keep my mouth shut for five minutes of bitching?!

He grabbed my face in his enormous hand. "Don't you ever talk to me like that!" He spat and slapped me so hard I got whip-lash. "You show me some fuckin respect!" and he pushed me down onto the ground. "Clean this shit up right now!" He yelled as I tried to get up. Man, what's my motivation? Why help this jerk when all he's going to do is bitch? "I said clean it up!" He yelled and kicked me in the ribs. Oh yeah, there's the motivation!

I put the table back at it's normal position and started to pick up the trash on the floor from it. Dad pushed me over and against the hard-wood floor. I tried to get back up, but once I did, was met with his fist. Maybe I should refrain from giving him a beer with dinner from now on...

Finally I finished cleaning, probably with only a few bruises, and Dad went to bed. That's when I logged onto the computer. There was a message on my myspace. "Hey." Oh great, guess who.

I opened it, a little excited to think of what she had written. "Hey, what's up?" it said. I clicked the reply option and started typing.

"Well, for starters, I hate my life. My dad just beat the shit outta me and I'm trying to fight insomnia and get some sleep for once." Right after writing it, I deleted it all. Fuck no was I about to tell some chick what was up! Geez.

"Hey, not much. Just chillen at my house. Same 'ol, same 'ol. How 'bout you?" I replied and awaited her response. She was still online, it appeared.

"Oh, that's cool. Ugh, I've had insane insomnia lately and I've run outta fun stuff to do when I can't sleep at night. What are you doing up so late?" I read. What time is it anyways? I looked at the clock to realize it was eleven forty-five. Damn.

"Well, when I can't sleep, I usually have a movie marathon or listen to music to calm myself down." I lied again. I do whatever I can to lose energy, usually wandering around town. Speaking of which, I better go out before everything closes. I need to pick up some foundation cream to try to hide the damage Dad did and then get some Mc Donalds.

"Oh, that's a good idea. So were you in trouble for leaving late? You seemed kinda freaked about it." She wrote back. Gee, I wonder why I was so freaked out.

"Uh, nah, it wasn't a big deal. I'll still be able to work on the project tomorrow, if that's what you're asking." I said. Finally, something I can be honest about. Why are girls always so up-in-your-business?

"Oh, that's good. I was worried I'd gotten you in deep shit, what with the way you were acting. So everything's ok? I mean, you're fine, right?" She asked. I don't understand this chick. Why does she feel this strange motherly obligation towards me... It scares me. I feel like she wants something. No one's ever this considerate about people! It's not natural! Ugh!

"Uh, yeah. Everything's cool. Hey, I'll reply later. I gotta go." I sent her real fast and logged off. I don't feel like having some strange emotional breakthrough online with the chick I've hated since I was five.