I don't have the luxury to move on.

I'm still here.

Everybody else moved on. It was a Tuesday for them.

It's been years, but it was just yesterday when 17 year old me woke up at 3 AM to my mother screaming bloody murder for me to call the police. Why? I walked in and stepped in a freezing puddle of spilled coffee and yet the only thing I could focus on was my father's hands wrapped around her throat as he forced her against the basement door.

I still break down if I smell coffee and floor cleaner at the same time. I only drink Frappuccinos and homemade now, it doesn't smell the same as the Starbucks cold brew.

I'm still there when I wake up in the middle of the night, so yes I will defend my mother when you talk about how horrible she is even if I know she's mistreated me throughout my life.

For fucks sake

She is doing her best.

And last week, 16 year old me lost her furry baby to lung cancer. She went from perfectly fine to collapsing in less than 48 hours and I lost her in less than a week- my father laughed at her corpse when we had to put her down and it was one of the first times I genuinely thought about killing him. I spent the next two years taking care of the dog we've had since I was a year old because he couldn't bear to be without her either.

I watched him get sick and nobody would help me even when he was practically decomposing in front of me, I handled all of his medications and got up at ungodly hours, sleeping usually only for 20 minutes at a time because he needed something, nobody would help me but I loved him so much- I feel like he could've made a full recovery if I wasn't the only one taking care of him and yet my mother still feels the need to tell me he was her dog.

I am still in the vets office when I lay down to sleep at night, both of my dogs are there though they died two years apart. I can't look away.

Tomorrow I will still be 18 and on the phone with my boyfriend at 4 in the morning because my mother was rushed to the emergency room and I don't know what to do-.. He hung up. He's drunk, and we're on a break and as much as he'd like to help, he doesn't know if he loves me anymore.

I can't breathe.

I am 20 years old. I am 18. I am 17. 16. 15. I am the 5 year old girl who doesn't understand why my older friend is sneaking into my room at night, why does he touch me when I tell him to stop? Why am I 12 and being told that I am crying too much over the death of my first cat? No. I am not doing it for attention. Why am I 14 and my first boyfriend is online and telling me how much he'd like to screw my decapitated head? Why?

Why am I still here and why does everyone else get to move on?