Deceitful
Drinker
I could see it, the pain behind her pale blue eyes; the well-crafted lies were like parasites. Constantly craving the attention that they didn’t deserve, rearing their ugly heads every so often that it’s become routine. Everyone had become fed up of it, to the point of exclusion. They had a hard time distinguishing the truth from the lies whenever she was around. I felt something along the lines of sympathy for her, due to the fact that she’s never lied to me. Not once, well at least I hope. All the people around me would tell me not to associate myself with her but it is hard not to.
Her innocence, once intact, is now frayed at the seams, only held together by a singular thread. Having being abused from a seemingly young age, her lies are only a form of self-preservation from the harsh extremes of the outside world; a world already full of lies and deceit, full of polygamy and fraud; a place that is no match for her. I was the only person whom she didn't constantly lie too, whether it's because I'm younger than her, or if it's because she trusts me. I don't know, but I'm grateful that she's honest with me. Despite our four year age gap, we're as close as they come.
She moved out when she turned 16, not wanting to be around the man who abused her at such a tender age. Our step-father is the glorification of the word bastard. A schizophrenic and alcoholic at best, he manipulated our sweet and loving mother into marrying him. Neither she or I knew what mother saw in him. All we see is a man - hell, I can't even describe him as that - psychologically abusing our mother, and someone who abused his own step-daughter until she gained enough strength to move out.
The front door slammed shut, signaling his arrival home from the local pub. He staggers his way across the threshold, dropping his keys on the cream carpet as he usually does due to the extreme amount of alcohol that's coursing through his bloodstream. I was leant up against the far wall of the lounge room, just observing. The putrid stench of stale beer emanating from him in waves, penetrating the confinements of my nasal cavity continually until all I could smell was that. Honestly, it's that potent I swear I could get intoxicated from just this.
As he bends over, his half empty beer splashes over the clean carpet, creating splatters. Of course, him being drunk, his brain doesn't care much for the finer things that are called rules. His eyes hastily scan the room for any sign of my mother, and when he can see the coast is clear, he calls in the just as drunk woman. My eyes are the size of saucers when he plants a rather sloppy kiss to her collagen filled lips. His body was flush against hers by the time that they pulled apart.I cleared my throat, alerting the disgrace to my family of my presence. He jumped apart from the rat as if he thought it was my mother. But, once he saw it was just me he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"It's only Rosanne's daughter, she won't do anything," he slurred to the strange woman before pulling her back and kissing her full on the lips again. From what I could tell from where I was stood, he looked as if he was grinding his lower half against hers. I could feel and taste bile crawling up my oesophagus, threatening to escape the fleshy barrier of my lips. instead of calling out loudly to my mum and risk getting the bottle smashed over my cranium, I pulled out my phone discretely and sent a quick text to her.
Several minutes later she made her way downstairs and unfortunately, the sight that greeted her wasn't pleasant.
"Richard, honey... who's she? Fiona sent me a text -" She begun but was shortly cut off.
"Mum! I told you not to tell him!" I interrupted her shrilly, my eyes frantic as they flitted over to where he was. His whole body language screamed bloody murder, turning slowly towards me he just lunged. Thankfully I was faster and managed to move out of the way before he could get his grimy hands on me. "Don't touch me!" Unfortunately my clumsy self tripped over the rug and I fell rather loudly to the hard floor. I groaned once my hip hit the ground and I looked up just in time to see the bottle smash over my head as I predicted.
Stars popped behind my eyelids as the world around me faded to black due to unconsciousness.
Her innocence, once intact, is now frayed at the seams, only held together by a singular thread. Having being abused from a seemingly young age, her lies are only a form of self-preservation from the harsh extremes of the outside world; a world already full of lies and deceit, full of polygamy and fraud; a place that is no match for her. I was the only person whom she didn't constantly lie too, whether it's because I'm younger than her, or if it's because she trusts me. I don't know, but I'm grateful that she's honest with me. Despite our four year age gap, we're as close as they come.
She moved out when she turned 16, not wanting to be around the man who abused her at such a tender age. Our step-father is the glorification of the word bastard. A schizophrenic and alcoholic at best, he manipulated our sweet and loving mother into marrying him. Neither she or I knew what mother saw in him. All we see is a man - hell, I can't even describe him as that - psychologically abusing our mother, and someone who abused his own step-daughter until she gained enough strength to move out.
The front door slammed shut, signaling his arrival home from the local pub. He staggers his way across the threshold, dropping his keys on the cream carpet as he usually does due to the extreme amount of alcohol that's coursing through his bloodstream. I was leant up against the far wall of the lounge room, just observing. The putrid stench of stale beer emanating from him in waves, penetrating the confinements of my nasal cavity continually until all I could smell was that. Honestly, it's that potent I swear I could get intoxicated from just this.
As he bends over, his half empty beer splashes over the clean carpet, creating splatters. Of course, him being drunk, his brain doesn't care much for the finer things that are called rules. His eyes hastily scan the room for any sign of my mother, and when he can see the coast is clear, he calls in the just as drunk woman. My eyes are the size of saucers when he plants a rather sloppy kiss to her collagen filled lips. His body was flush against hers by the time that they pulled apart.I cleared my throat, alerting the disgrace to my family of my presence. He jumped apart from the rat as if he thought it was my mother. But, once he saw it was just me he scoffed and rolled his eyes.
"It's only Rosanne's daughter, she won't do anything," he slurred to the strange woman before pulling her back and kissing her full on the lips again. From what I could tell from where I was stood, he looked as if he was grinding his lower half against hers. I could feel and taste bile crawling up my oesophagus, threatening to escape the fleshy barrier of my lips. instead of calling out loudly to my mum and risk getting the bottle smashed over my cranium, I pulled out my phone discretely and sent a quick text to her.
Several minutes later she made her way downstairs and unfortunately, the sight that greeted her wasn't pleasant.
"Richard, honey... who's she? Fiona sent me a text -" She begun but was shortly cut off.
"Mum! I told you not to tell him!" I interrupted her shrilly, my eyes frantic as they flitted over to where he was. His whole body language screamed bloody murder, turning slowly towards me he just lunged. Thankfully I was faster and managed to move out of the way before he could get his grimy hands on me. "Don't touch me!" Unfortunately my clumsy self tripped over the rug and I fell rather loudly to the hard floor. I groaned once my hip hit the ground and I looked up just in time to see the bottle smash over my head as I predicted.
Stars popped behind my eyelids as the world around me faded to black due to unconsciousness.