Thread: Daddy Deserves It (Juicy Fresh & Google)

There is a split between successful marriages, and failed marriages resulting in divorce. This split contributed to the discouraging fact of divorce. The image was never pretty to begin with. There had been problems progressing and worsening for years. It was no surprise when my mother blurted out about the official divorce while driving me to school. I couldn't really explain my reaction, since there was none. The first thoughts that crossed my mind were 'Dad'. I wanted to live with my father. If I had to be alone in the same house with my mother, I think I'd put a gun to my head... or to hers. My mother and I hadn't gotten along since I entered womanhood. We began to butt heads when I was just 11 years old. It got better when I was around 12, but when the fighting began it all went down the drain. We had minimal communication the basics, really. She drove me to school in the morning, and I walked home in the afternoon, that was if I ever did go home. I tried not too. We fought almost everyday on the stupidest little things. She hated me partly for being biologically related to my dad, and partly because I was so much like him. Yet, she pushed for custody and hired a top-notch expensive lawyer, who is coincidentally related to the judge who in the end ruled in her favor. I was to see my father every second weekend. But that didn't do anything, I already lived there. After school I decided to take a shot at my mother's place. I had no bus money to travel 2 and a half hours to his house so I chose to go back home. As predicted, the moment I came through the door I was harrassed for answers of where I was between 330PM and 547PM. Apparently, I was supposed to be home for 4 oclock, but saying you were at school studying was deemed fit enough for an excuse. It was true, I was in the middle of exams and I needed the extra time to sniff out some pages. She suffered from severe OCD not medically, but I wouldn't be surprised. Always paranoid about everything and develops her own conclusions in her mind. Once they are there, no amount of facts can change her delusions. So many words flew around in that household. Including those of whore, slut, skank, tramp, prostitute, anything that related to sleeping around I was accused of. All this, for only being one hour and a half late. After 20 minutes of screaming, I just walked out of the door. I had enough. It was reaching near 620pm and I had to forage around for spare change in my bag. After coming short, I was able to sweet-talk the bus driver into letting me on for free. It worked, as usual. Although I was good with words, I wasn't anything like my mother thought me to be. In fact, I had never even had sex. Something that seemed more and more rare for girls my age. I had no interest in guys my age. They were study, juvenile, and perverted. I just wasn't attracted to anyone in school or around, despite my close calls and countless waves of hormones that sometimes got the best of me. Close to three hours passed, and I had finally made it to your luxurious apartment. I dug into my right pocket and retrieved a key. I heard some shuffling in the house and some giggling, but I figured it was the television and swung open the door. I was looking down at the doorknob when I entered. I know I told you I was staying at Moms, but we- I paused, having looked up to see an inappropriate scene sprawled out between my eyes. I froze, my face turning a bright red with embarrassment as I trembled for words. Uhm... I turned around, clearing my throat. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to intrude... I'll- I'll- I'll go. Yeah. I headed for the door and before anything could be said I slammed the door behind me and headed for the elevator. I even left the key in the keyhole. I would have never expected my daddy to have moved on that fast but it didn't really matter anyways Daddy deserves it.