I Was The Bad Guy

I know mom died, Rosie, but it's better than seeing you like this." The words stabbed mercilessly into her, winding in-between bones and cartilage to strike her very core. "You dropped out, I know you've been stealing from me, and I can't support you the way you are anymore. It's been years, Rose. I've moved on. Your brother moved on. You need to move on, too." Pale blue-green eyes stared, blankly, at the weary older man leaning against the frame of her bedroom door--her father. Beleaguered with stress and a faint sense of hopelessness, he just stared at the floor as he addressed his twenty-three-year-old daughter. "I talked to (Your Character) the other day, about you. People were worried for a while, now they've just about given up. You've

I’ve decided to finish telling about how I got sick, After all there is nothing else for me to do while I am stuck here. When I got home my mother was surprised to see me. And of course she was mad and I had to hear the “young man I am very disappointed in you, you’re better than this talk” Even though was barely listening my dad lectured me on and on about how they paid good money for me to attend Pency Prep, it’s not like I didn’t care but I didn’t really care and eventually I got up and went to my room. They were really stressing me out and I was depressed again so I sat down and I began to talk to Allie, because that’s what I do when I’m depressed. It comforts me and takes me back to a time when everything was ok. “Okay now, go home and get your bike and meet me out front of Bobby’s house. Hurry up.”

Hence why my grades slipped terribly and I would barely leave the house. I started to pull myself together and started to grow as an adult. I'm trying to make my decisions based on what I think is good for me. I try to let you know that I am thankful for what you to for me. Especially what you've done for Trevor. He was not in a good place but now he's stable and taking care of himself. I don't want you to think I'm not sorry for what you have to deal with now. I am truly sorry for what is happening as a result. all I want and will ever want if for you to be proud of me. I try not to ask for much because I know how hard things are for you. I don't want you to be angry at me. I am deeply sorry for my

It wasn’t anything special. The carpet Mrs. Dela made started ripping, and no one cared. The flowers outside were dying. Mom and dad rarely spoke, and they never kissed. My brother stopped taking me to the park because “It’s not cool to hang out with your kid sister”. Curly stayed over a lot more than he used to. He said his mom was working. She was working the bench at the bar. The whole neighborhood knew, but I didn’t tell him that. Benny spoke less than he originally did. Conspicuous bruises started appearing along his arms. Curly and I asked what happened and he would say he ran into a door. He lied through his teeth. Things didn’t seem to be able to get any worse.

In Sandra Cisneros’ story “Only Daughter,” Sandra Cisneros wanted many things in her life and that was to gain her father’s acceptance of her. She wanted him to understand that it was difficult not only growing up the only daughter but also coming from a Mexican family that was expecting her to find a husband. So she does it by writing stories for her father hoping one day he’ll read them and be proud of her. But knowing that her father does not understand English words, she still tries. One day one of her stories is published in Spanish.

It was the day of Allie’s funeral and I wasn’t going. I mean I would’ve, it’s not like I wasn’t invited and all, but I was just in the hospital. I had broken my hand when I smashed all those stupid windows in the garage. But none of that matters anyway, Allie was dead and he was never coming back. Mom had come in to my room this morning all dressed in black and she just held on to me and started crying. She said, “It’ll get better before you know it Holden”. I just smiled and let her hold me, but I knew she was lying. I hated her a little for saying that. She and I both knew it would take a long time before anything got better. After letting go of me and wiping her face with a tissue

She got up and left to go to their room. Chuck looked at me with a look that I had never seen before. “You’re a worthless kid Bradley, you will never get adopted.” I looked up at him and said, “I will get adopted and I hate you.” Chuck jumped up and grabbed me by the ear and got in my face and screamed how worthless I was and I should have never of been born in the first place. I cried and cried as he began to hit me, I felt the sting from his hand as he hit my cheeks that were wet from my tears. He let go of me and left the room, I layed in that same spot for hours not wanting to move because I was afraid to make him mad

I wake up early and stomp downstairs. I grab the oatmeal from the table and run upstairs. Someone knocks at the door. It’s Anna-Marie. “Go away!” I yell, but she opens the door anyway. I put my oatmeal on the night stand and hide under my covers. “ Cadence, you seemed like you were happy here and you were getting along with all the others. We can’t have you sneaking out all the time. I’m sorry but we have decided to send you to foster parents. You leave tonight to meet them.” She closes the door and I come out from under the covers. I pack my bags and I’m ready to go. I say goodbye to everyone and I hop in the taxicab and drive off.

I complained to mother every day about her being so impulsive and leaving without consulting any of us about it first; and how now my life will be forever ruined because there was no possible way I could make all new friends in such a short time. I texted my dad asking to take us back and how mom is never home, always working, and there's never even anything to eat. He always told me that he was working on it. My mother was way ahead of me as she had always been in trying to make the move more conducive for us. I got enrolled into a Youth Center where numerous children from the surrounding schools went to mingle: somewhat of a teen club. In those prime years, bullying runs rapid. I still remember on my first day being dropped off, hearing the car door slam shut, and how my feet grew heavy carrying them to the door. As I walked in I was greeted by my counselor Jennifer who looked the same age as me. She saw the reluctance on my face and offered a tour. I declined, and of course chose the corner with a table and socket to charge my

Tears dripped down from my eyes to my cheeks like a waterfall. I couldn’t stop it. I had made a promise. I clung on tighter, maybe that meant she wouldn’t leave. “It was going to happen anyway Tara, don’t beat yourself up about this.” She said in a hushed voice. It didn’t matter what she told me, I had promised to make her not move, to somehow convince her family that leaving was the worst idea. I hadn’t done it. I had failed. I looked down at the floral sheets as I hugged her, I never wanted her to go. I wanted to take in everything for that moment and keep it, locked away somewhere safe. This was the last time I’d see this room, with her endless books in her bookshelves, her intricate coloring books overflowing. “We can still keep in touch”

As I stood near the whole my dad was diding all I could think about was the memorieze we had made together. When I first got him and he was so small and shy. He would run around the house sliding on the floor and making muddy footprints across the clean floor, and mom screaming to get off the floor. I don’t know why she got so mad he was only a puppy and he didn’t know any better. I didn’t realize I was crying until my mom handed me a tissue. My dad was lowering Cooper into the ground, and I lost it sobbing uncontrollably. Toby put his arm around me trying to get me to calm down. As my dad covered his grace Cassidy put flowers on top. Soon a huge drop of rain came crashing down out of the sky. We all decided it was time to go back home. As I slumped my way back to my room wonder what I was going to do. The rain keeps coming down; it was the perfect day to stay inside and not talk to anyone. The only bad thing was that I knew Monday was

He walked sluggish up the stairs to go to bed, I ran towards mom to see if she was okay, I saw her face filled with fear and it looks like she wasn’t in this world anymore, like she was off, lost in her conscience. I felt suddenly like I wasn’t home, like I just walked into a different world with parents I didn’t even recognize. I left my mom in her mess of thoughts and ran upstairs a little wary that my dad would pop out. I shut my door silently and just sat on my bed, wondering what happened to Clover and hoping she’ll come back home soon, no wait this is not my home anymore.

The trip back to the treehouse, my new home, was kind of a blur. I remember slight details though. I remember Melody tugging my arm, telling me it was time to go. I remember following Melody’s way mindlessly. I remember almost running into a tree. I remember tripping over a log. But, I was mostly replaying the argument over and over and over again in my head. “Bye Piper,” just kept echoing against the sides of my head, giving me a headache. What if I just apologized? What if I followed her? What if I demanded her to stay? What if questions filled my mind like a glass of water. Hindsight is 20/20.

My mom had called me three time, each time her voice grew with annoyance. I dropped my Barbie dolls that I had been playing with for the last hour. They dropped to the floor puled on to each other with the same plastic smiles looking up at me. I sped down the stairs like a cheater looking for its prey. When I reached the bottom a whiff of dinner hit my face. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. It smelled like mashed potatoes and chicken. I resisted the urge to go check and went straight to the living room. The T.V. was on and seemed to have my brother’s full attention. My brother was seven years older than me and we shared a striking resemblance. My mom and dad were next to each other on the opposite end of the couch. My mom had a pillow

No memory loss or anything. Around Halloween, you went to the therapist. Boo hoo, you cried, I don’t like it! I don’t need help! I’m so fucked up! Well, guess what! You’re not supposed to find it fun or entertaining. It’s supposed to help you. And any time I tried talking to you about anything, you basically made conversation do a 180 towards you. Feelings were to be respected, only if they were yours. And do you remember when I told you about my stepdad? I told you about him dying and you said “Well, I ever had a stepdad.” Well, that doesn’t affect me, does it? All I wanted was for you to go “Oh, okay” Or something. I didn’t want sympathy. What I wanted was for you to know something had happened to me and I may need a little support. But nope! And let’s not talk about what you texted me. Remember that? ‘I one upped you’ you told me. You cut yourself 64 times. You invalidated everything I had gone through, told me you didn’t care about me, and kicked me in the gut. All in one message! Wow, round of applause! And I ignored you for a few days, needing time to cool off a little and not