So I Need You

"Beth," she whispered softly, "Beth, sweetheart wake up." My eyes fluttered open, only to meet my mother's dark brown ones. "You should eat something, you slept through the whole day," she continued to whisper.

I pulled the blankets over my face. I was in no mood to deal with her, not today. Not ever, really. "Hey," she began to shake me a little bit, "come on, daddy will be home soon, we need to get dinner on the table. You know he doesn't like having to wait."

I rolled my eyes, "There's a lot of things he doesn't like," I muttered bitterly.

"Come on now, he's still your father. I know he's been hard to deal with, but he still loves you, you have to know that Elizabeth. He's going through a rough patch is all, it'll be over soon."

"You just keep believing that," I spat angrily. If there was one thing that unnerved me more than anything, it was my mother's denial. She had convinced herself that this would all blow over, but I knew it wouldn't. It was far beyond my father being sad anymore, he'd drove himself to the brink of insanity. He was trapped in his constant thoughts and memories, and there's was no turning back. "When are you going to wake up mom?"

"Please come down and set the table," she replied, completely disregarding my question.

"You're in denial mom, please, realize that. I don't want to lose both my parents!"

"Your father is fine!" she snapped, "he's just taking Justin's death a little harder than the rest of us, that's all! Don't you dare talk about my husband like he's dead! Now I don't want to hear another word out of you Elizabeth Jensen, get yourself downstairs!"

I watched her furiously as she walked out of the room, refusing to discuss the issue any further. Sometimes I felt like I was the only adult in the house, but then again I did have faults of my own. I was leading two lives. On one hand, I was considered to be an out of control teenager, but at home I felt like I had to try and keep things sane, or at least as sane as they could be at this point.

"Elizabeth!" she screamed.

"I'm coming!"

►►►►

"So, dad how was your day?" I asked uneasily, as we sat around the dinner table.

He looked over at me, looking as scary as he always did. He didn't shave for days at a time, and the little amount of sleep he had was doing his usually handsome face shame. He looked tired and angry. "Marina, shut her up," he barked.

"Jeffrey, she only asked you a question-"

"Oh, so what is this, now you're both ganging up on me? You think because I'm the only man in the house, that you two have some sort of higher authority!? Well let me tell you something, you're worth nothing! It would take fifty women to ever sum up to the abilities of man! So shut your mouths, and be grateful God even gave anyone like you a chance to live!"

"May I be excused?" I asked, my voice small.

"No!" he screamed, slamming the table. "You'll stay here with your mother and you're going to clean all this mess up!"

He scanned my face, daring me to make any sort of objection. "Is that understood?" he said harshly, his face so close to mine, I could smell the boos lingering in his breath. He took his plate into the living room, grabbing another bottle of beer on the way.

"I-I'll clean this up," my mother whispered shakily, "you can go."

I shook my head as I started to clear the table, not even wanting to compromise my father's orders. My body shook slightly, having been in deep fear only moments ago, as I cleared the dishes. It scared me so much when he spoke that way, with such hate. I could see all the anger in his eyes, the truth was that he blamed me. He blamed me for everything, and there was nothing I could do to change his mind.

"Elizabeth!" my mother cried, as the sound of shattering glass erupted through the kitchen.

"Oh my God!" I panicked, quickly bending down to pick up the shards of broken glass. "I'm so sorry, I wasn't paying-"

"What the fuck are you doing!" my father yelled, appearing at the kitchen's entrance.

"I-I'm sorry sir, I-I it slipped-" I replied, fear washing over me as he watched me menacingly. I tried not to cry as a piece of glass cut through my skin, leaving a gash in my palm.

"You're good for nothing!" he screamed, taking me by the hair, only to throw me harder into the floor. "You should have died instead, it should have been you!"

"Jeffrey, stop it!" my mother cried, "Let go of your daughter!"

He grabbed my arm, and I could just see the bruises I'd have to cover up. "She's not my daughter, I don't have a fucking daughter! You're a disgrace to this family! Why are you here, when God took my son! You ungrateful-"

"Jeffrey, stop it, right now! Let her go!" she screamed, as his hand collided with my face.

He pushed me harder onto the floor once again, spitting in disgust. "Clean this up and get to bed, I don't want to see your face anymore!"

I nodded, breathing deeply as I mentally scolded myself against crying. "Y-yes sir," I whispered, never meeting his glare. I waited, holding my injured hand until he left the room, to get up and meet my mother's guilty face.

"Are you okay-"

"Just a rough patch, right mom?" I spat.

►►►►

I blinked several times, my eyes adjusting to the sunlight pouring in through my bedroom windows. "Morning already?" I groaned, rolling onto my back. The house was already empty, and it would have been easy to skip school, but I decided against it. School, as sad as this may sound, was my escape. It was my time away from home, which I could barely say felt like a home anyway.

It was a time where I could be away from the craziness going on in my life, yet still not have to live up to expectation of my peers. I'd put myself in a situation, kind of like my father's, where I was in so deep now, it would be almost impossible to pull out. People expected things from me. I was always the first one to be offered a cigarette or a drink, knowing I'd never turn it down. Inside, I was screaming.

I was disgusted with myself, but the looks on their faces as they waited for me to do the next out of control thing was all it took. It was taunting enough to persuade me to take another drink, to stand on the table and dance, to let that cute guy, who's name I didn't know, lead me to the bedroom. Amber tried to save me, but I didn't want to be saved, not by her.

I left my bed, grudgingly, and made my way for the shower, preparing myself for another day of my drama-filled high school life. I dressed quickly, pulling on my favorite denim shorts, and a top that would surely get me dirty looks from my teachers. What can I say, I knew how to play the part? Not to mention, the L.A. heat wasn't so easy to dress for.

"Oh crap," I breathed, as I recognized the form of my father's hand on my upper arm, imprinted in a bruise. I ran my hands through my long auburn hair in frustration, then grabbed a sweater and my book bag before rushing out the door.