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Christina sat at her desk, thinking back to earlier. She didn’t know what she had done wrong. She didn’t know her parents would react like that over something so simple.
She just asked if they could order food while they were out. She just wanted to see if they would be willing to eat out after a whole week of scraps from the fridge. She just wanted a treat, and yet they yelled at her in the car. They called her an asshole. They said she was ungrateful. They threatened to hit her again, and her brother this time. She didn’t want that. Her brother was new to all this, whereas she had been careful enough to not get hit in years.
Christina felt herself begin to shake. This was too much, even for her. She could handle this, though. She was 15 now. Small fights like this happened on the daily, so why did this one feel different? Why did this one play such a role in breaking her. She desperately wiped her eyes as tears fell from them. “Calm down,” she whispered to herself, “if they come in and see you like this you’ll have-”
Damnit. She jinxed it. She heard the door creek open and practically shot up, not facing the person who entered.
“Sis..? Are you ok?”
She froze. It was Block. He couldn’t see her like this. Nobody was supposed to see her like this, but especially not him. Sure, her parents would probably make a big deal out of it, but if Block saw her crying then he would remember. He would think of this in the future.
“I-i’m fine, Block.” She responded, trying her best not to stutter. “Now, can you please leave?”
He stood there for a moment, then nodded and left.
“-And close my door, please.”
He closed the door, and she started crying again, despite herself. She felt fear fill her body when she heard talking through the thin walls. Shit. Shit he was- He was telling their parents. He was telling their parents she was sad.
She tried to stop crying, heart pounding in her chest as she heard the footsteps come closer to her door. No. No. NO.
NO. NO.
NO. NO. NO.
The door opened suddenly, and she knew it was her father almost immediately.
“What’s wrong? Why’re you crying..?” He asked her, trying to seem concerned, but she knew he was just angry. That only proved to make her panic worse. She had to be careful, had to speak right.
“I’m not crying.” She said, immediately regretting her choice.
“Yes, you were, Christina. I can tell. Was it because of earlier?”
She decided to cut her losses, and chose to stay silent. She couldn’t bring herself to answer.
“What, so you’re just not gonna tell me? See, this is exactly what me and your mother talk about. You don’t open up to anyone anymore, and it’s only hurting you. You-”
She tuned him out by then, just choosing to stare at what she called her father. She never actually listened to these lectures, as that proved useless. They would always find something to be mad about. She couldn’t argue with them, though, couldn’t even think anything too rude about them; She wouldn’t really be honoring her mother and father, then, would she? What was even honorable about them? What did other people see in them that she didn’t?! Did they not realize this was who they were inviting over to their house parties, or dinners!? Did they not see past the facade, or was it only their kids that did?!
Christina snapped back into focus when she realized he’d left. Good. She didn’t want to hear his bickering for much longer. She noticed he kept her door open, but she didn’t bother fixing it. She knew he would just yell more if she did. The girl flinched at the sound of his voice, sudden and booming.
“Christina, take out the trash!”
They were acting like this was normal, she realized. To their credit, the yelling did happen often, thanks to her brother, but it didn’t make it normal. She felt her eyes sting with salty tears. Did everyone go through this? Was everyone threatened to be beaten? Was every child forced to hear their siblings spanked and screamed at? She stood up after a bit, pulling herself together before going outside her room.
The house felt unfamiliar, despite having lived in it for well over a year. She didn’t get out much, she knew that much, but it was still hard to believe this was where she lived. She took shaky steps toward the pantry, knowing that was where the trashcan was. She grabbed its already full bag, and put another one in robotically. She glanced at her parents, who were on the couch, watching TV. If someone were to walk inside, they wouldn’t pick up on the tension in the air; They would only see a happy couple and their son, who had seemingly already moved past getting yelled at. They would look at the walls and see happy photos on them, and then they would see the girl, who looked like she just had a bad day at school. She would be okay soon, though. This was normal, or at least it seemed to be.
As soon as Christina stepped out the door, her eyes were filled with tears. She hated this. She hated acting like everything was fine. She hated being called names. She hated being tired all the time. She hated feeling like she wasn’t enough, and that she would never be enough, but above all, what she hated most was hating herself.
She threw the trash into the garbage can with a grunt, cursing at the inanimate object before immediately apologizing.
“I need to stop that,” she muttered, “It’s becoming a problem.”
She sniffed slightly, lamenting going back inside. She would pretend to be normal; That’s what everyone in town did. She took the door handle begrudgingly, pulling open the gates to hell.
Christina trudged inside, walking with a purpose. Not a soul paid her any mind, like she didn’t exist, or at least didn’t deserve to. When she got inside of her room, she flopped down on the bed, grimacing at the realization she hadn’t washed her hands after touching the trash.
She got out some hand sanitizer and applied it to her hand. If there was one thing she inherited from women around her, it was mild mysophobia.
Christina would be fine. Even as she heard something spill in the other room, and her brother insisting that it was an accident, she knew she’d be okay. Sure, she would grow up hating herself. She would get a hold of a gun when she was 16, and Orel would have to talk her out of shooting herself, but this was normal. This was just life for her.
Life was never kind to Christ, much less this tiny little female one.
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