Kiss me Good Bye...
7 days before...
7 Days Before…
“Abigail Rogers get your skanky ass down her now bitch!” The words of Abigail’s mother was slurred as an effect of one too many bottles of her favorite Jack Daniels. It was not unusual that Abigail’s mother was already too drunk to actually to anything productive such as work. It wasn’t unlikely at all. Not wanting any more confrontation with her parents after last night’s ‘walk into a door’ with her father, that Abigail climbed down the steps to answer her mother’s drunken call.
“Yes” Unfazed to the kitchen reeking of cigarettes and cheep liquor.
“Are you giving me attitude?” Her mother swayed with every syllable. A successfully delivered eye roll was delivered on Abigail’s part. “When was the last time you made some fucking money for this house?”
No matter what the word was or how many times it was delivered the curses and name calling always managed their way to cut straight through Abigail’s thin walls and stick sharp and hard to her heart.
“I don’t get paid till next Friday.” Subconsciously Abigail reached to run her hair though the thick black mop of curls that fall uncontrollably down her back, but just one light gaze to her cheek bone and rocket of pins and needles erupted. The familiar pain of bruised tissue reminded her of last night.
Her father coming in the door fast and angry, ready to take out anything and anyone who stood in his way of his very own stash of liquor. Under the hour he was loosened up and ready for battle to take out his every day issues with the factory where he worked on anything weaker than his 6 foot 4 stature.
“Abigail Rogers” his voice shook the floor boards under her feet as she hid away in her closet, wishing, praying that this time he will be to drunk and not find her. But to no avail her she was left alone. Closet door swung open revealing her father shirt untucked, half buttoned, pants sagged, holding leather belt in hand. It was a bad night, one of the worst. You can always tell because there the nights that Abigail’s father forgets the rules of hitting where no marks can be seen because the next morning her left eye swollen shut and busted lip to prove that a ‘door’ beat the hell out of her.
Quickly for someone intoxicated Abigail’s mother grabs the closest empty bottom and hurls it at Abigail. “Are you listening to me?” she screams as the glass container whizzes past her face and shatters against the wall behind her head.
“N-no. W-what did you s-say?” Abigail stunned at her mother’s almost accuracy.
“I said you need to find another fucking job. We need that money. Your father is working his poor butt off to support your sorry ass.” She slurs as she takes another leaking sip of her drink.
“What about school? My grades already suck because I have no time to study with the job I have now. I won’t be able to pass if I get another job.”
Her mother slams the glass down against the filthy tile counter top opens her mouth wide as disgust laughter pours out. “School?! Are you kidding me? You are dumb as two shits. You aren’t going anywhere in school. What do you think you will do with a diploma? Please all you ever going to good at is standing on the corner and lying on your back.”
Her mother’s words always stung but these words strung together in this order, the pain was unbearable. Abigail turned and ran, out of the smoke cloud, the stench of jack Daniels, and closer to her final rest.
“Abigail Rogers get your skanky ass down her now bitch!” The words of Abigail’s mother was slurred as an effect of one too many bottles of her favorite Jack Daniels. It was not unusual that Abigail’s mother was already too drunk to actually to anything productive such as work. It wasn’t unlikely at all. Not wanting any more confrontation with her parents after last night’s ‘walk into a door’ with her father, that Abigail climbed down the steps to answer her mother’s drunken call.
“Yes” Unfazed to the kitchen reeking of cigarettes and cheep liquor.
“Are you giving me attitude?” Her mother swayed with every syllable. A successfully delivered eye roll was delivered on Abigail’s part. “When was the last time you made some fucking money for this house?”
No matter what the word was or how many times it was delivered the curses and name calling always managed their way to cut straight through Abigail’s thin walls and stick sharp and hard to her heart.
“I don’t get paid till next Friday.” Subconsciously Abigail reached to run her hair though the thick black mop of curls that fall uncontrollably down her back, but just one light gaze to her cheek bone and rocket of pins and needles erupted. The familiar pain of bruised tissue reminded her of last night.
Her father coming in the door fast and angry, ready to take out anything and anyone who stood in his way of his very own stash of liquor. Under the hour he was loosened up and ready for battle to take out his every day issues with the factory where he worked on anything weaker than his 6 foot 4 stature.
“Abigail Rogers” his voice shook the floor boards under her feet as she hid away in her closet, wishing, praying that this time he will be to drunk and not find her. But to no avail her she was left alone. Closet door swung open revealing her father shirt untucked, half buttoned, pants sagged, holding leather belt in hand. It was a bad night, one of the worst. You can always tell because there the nights that Abigail’s father forgets the rules of hitting where no marks can be seen because the next morning her left eye swollen shut and busted lip to prove that a ‘door’ beat the hell out of her.
Quickly for someone intoxicated Abigail’s mother grabs the closest empty bottom and hurls it at Abigail. “Are you listening to me?” she screams as the glass container whizzes past her face and shatters against the wall behind her head.
“N-no. W-what did you s-say?” Abigail stunned at her mother’s almost accuracy.
“I said you need to find another fucking job. We need that money. Your father is working his poor butt off to support your sorry ass.” She slurs as she takes another leaking sip of her drink.
“What about school? My grades already suck because I have no time to study with the job I have now. I won’t be able to pass if I get another job.”
Her mother slams the glass down against the filthy tile counter top opens her mouth wide as disgust laughter pours out. “School?! Are you kidding me? You are dumb as two shits. You aren’t going anywhere in school. What do you think you will do with a diploma? Please all you ever going to good at is standing on the corner and lying on your back.”
Her mother’s words always stung but these words strung together in this order, the pain was unbearable. Abigail turned and ran, out of the smoke cloud, the stench of jack Daniels, and closer to her final rest.
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