I Know My Mother Love Me, but Does My Father Even Care?

The revs pov
I stood by Leana as she helped the children out the car and into the house.
She came up to me, “Come on baby,” she smiled and grabbed my hand and pulled me towards her.
I started to follow but stopped, “I'm an awful parent,” I admitted.
She sighed and looked at me in the eyes, “no you’re not.” She kissed me softly on the lips. “Come on.”

Dear diary,
This is the first time I’ve given Jimmy any thought at al. and now I can’t get him out. I'm a shit parent. I don’t understand why it took me so long to realise, I was a shit husband and to be quite honest, a shit person in general. I’d say that I promise to make it right and be a better person but I’ll have to prove it first… how can I prove it…?

Jimmy’s pov
Dear diary,
My dads obviously trying to make it up to me. He bought me a little black and purple notebook. It had a thick, raised cover and inside was a photo of my mom at her wedding. His idea was that if I ever wanted to speak to my mom I could write it down. It was a nice idea… I suppose, so I thanked him for it. But it was kind of obvious that he was trying to buy me back…

I looked at the razor blade on my bed-side cupboard. There was blood stained around the rim. The small blade I pulled out from my sharpener and it’s caused this much damage, and if anything more emotional pain because I relied on it to bring me closer too my mom, but instead it just cut deep into my skin… I quickly hid the blade under my pillow as someone knocked on my door and welcomed themselves in.
It was Leana. “We were wondering whether you wanted anything to eat.”
“No,” I bluntly said and looked away. “Go away.”
“Jimmy,” my dad replied peering in the door way. “You haven’t eaten anything for a week now, at least try something!”
“No,” I repeated, with a bit more attitude. “Go away.”
“Jimmy…” Leana added.
“Fuck off,” I cursed, well kind of choked. The tears burned in my eyes and my throat felt thick. I’d loose my temper so easily lately, but since my mom died, the stupidest, littlest things make me flip out.
“Jimmy,” my dad lectured, again. “You need to stop swearing.”
“I can’t,” I insisted.
“Think about scar,” his voice continued to ring through my head and it started to ache. “You don’t want her to learn them.”
“You’re not listening to me!” I snapped. “I want to stop swearing, cursing and doing things I shouldn’t but I can’t! I can’t help it.”
“He needs to see a psychiatrist,” Leana sneered to my dad.
“Fuck you,” I whispered angrily at her.
“Jimmy, I think…”
Leana interrupted him. “Don’t speak to me like that!” Leana shouted.
“Oh sorry,” I shouted back. “All of the sudden you’re my mother?! No doesn’t work like that you filthy whore!”
“Will you two stop arguing for 5 minutes?!” my dad shouted over both of us.
“Please,” I kind of begged. “Get out.”
They did as I asked. I got up and shut my door then angrily pulled my razor blade out.

Dear diary… or should I say mom?
I can’t control my anger. Anything anyone does is annoying me and I can’t control it. I miss you… I miss you so much; I never knew it would be this painful. I just want all this to end… I can’t help but to think its dads fault… I wish this was all pretend, like a story, I can skip this chapter and everything will be right again… happy again… please… help me… I don’t want to curse anymore. What’s wrong with me? You bought me up better then this… my teachers’ right… you’d be ashamed of me…

I stopped writing because the pen started to smudge as I wrote when my anger got the best of me and I started to cry. I pushed my fringe from my eyes and stared at the photo of my mum… wondering, whether she feels the same as I do, or whether she doesn’t feel anything. Whether she’s just… dead…