I Am I 'm Going Upstairs

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When you’re underwater you forget what air feels like but you come up for air and it feels as if it’s something new. I haven’t come up for air in such a long time. Coming home from school feels as if I swam deeper. It became normal, to come home to a parent who swims in a pool of liquor. Instead of being greeted at the door by a fur ball, I was greeted by my dad waiting by the stairs. “How was school?” he said playing with his hands. His face was swollen and a little red. “I’m going upstairs, I can help you later with whatever we’re eating,” I say that as I go up the steps. If anyone heard me speak like that to my dad, it would be considered rude. But, I question myself, “Does he really care?” I feel like he has to ask me that to feel like a parent and not like an alcoholic who has no idea what’s going on. At the moment I was more curious to see where my dog was. I open the door to my parents’ room to see my dog and her food bowl. Why would he put her here? I just took her to my room and closed the door. With it being Fall, it quickly got dark by six o’clock. I was tapping my pencil against my notebook, trying to figure out where the nucleus of the cell was. Through the vents I could hear voices, I thought nothing of it and continued. I told myself it was just the television my dad was watching. I knew I was lying to myself. I realized that my room was above one of the rooms downstairs not the living room. Slowly getting up from my chair and walking down the hall, I wanted

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