Don't Leave Me

My parents are Christian nuts. Like, full on "Christ is our only god" type Christian. They are thankfully usually very laid back about letting me go out, having a little privacy, etc.. but lately we've had quite a bit of misunderstanding. See, my parents would have you believe that I am a terrible, lazy child who only wants to do drugs and piss them off. I am smart, I'm a legitimately good kid, realistically mature for my age and I am not doing drugs, not having sex, making up my bad grades and help clean up around the house all the time. I just don't sense any love, and I love my parents.
I just feel like they are so angry at me, constantly suspicious of my behaviour, literally almost everyday going through my things to look for drugs, and my mom even said she is going to start setting up hidden tape recorders in the house, and I really believe her. I tried levelling with my mom especially, my dad is much more understanding, but she won't have it. Every single discussion turns into something about how I need to turn to god. I want real parental advice from them, not "just follow god". It's like I don't speak their language and I can't relate to them at all, I really just want them to know I'm a good kid and that I love them.
They want me to become a doctor, or a lawyer in Phoenix, and have a good respectable Christian life. The thing is, I don't believe in God. I want to travel the world, but they don't want me to travel. They don't believe in sex before marriage, or self expression or difference. They believe there is only one God, and one pure race. Christians.

Mom, can I go out tonight?" I asked. As usual on Friday nights, she was watching Songs of Praise with a gin and tonic.
"With who, and where?" she asked, not looking away from the choir singing.
"Just on the street, with Keisha." I said quietly. My mom nearly choked on her G T.
"Keisha?! That girl is a bad influence, Scarlett! That girl with be 16 and pregnant with the baby of the Devil, I'm sure of it. You will not go out tonight. Plus, it's far too late! Go to bed, we have church in the morning. And make sure your sister has said her prayers!" I looked at the clock. 6 pm. I sighed. It was too late to argue, she was already humming away to Hallelujah. As I crossed the landing, I heard my sister call me from her room. I opened the door.
"What is it, Athena?" I asked. Athena is my 9 year old sister. She has auburn hair, and green eyes. Just like me.
"Read me a story?" she pouted her lip, and I sighed.
"Okay, but not the Bible. I'm reading you a story, not brainwashing you." I ran my fingertips over the bookshelf, trying to pick one. I plucked out The Hunger Games.
"Mommy says that story is preposterous. She says it can't be real." Athena told me, matter-of-factly.
I scoffed.
"What, even more preposterous as an invisible man in the sky who grants all your wishes if you be good?! That isn't religion, that's schizophrenia."
She gasped and giggled, then made room for me on her pink coveted bed. I sat down, and started reading the story.
"When I wake up, the other side of the bed is cold. My fingers stretch out, seeking Prim’s warmth but finding only the rough canvas cover of the mattress..."

At the end of Chapter 1, I looked to find my sister sleeping soundly. I smiled and kissed her on the forehead, before walking out of the room.