5

I hate my mother a lot less than I did this morning. Partly because my dad is a freaking douche canoe and partly because I realize why she does nothing to stop him from hurting me. She loves him. She loves him deeply and truly. She loves him and she keeps telling herself that she should hold off because he will stop hurting me eventually. She loves him and believes that inside he really is a good person. She loves him and it has made her blind. She cannot see that he is no longer the man he was back when they were high school sweethearts. She cannot feel how cold he has become. She cannot hear the razor sharp edge of his voice that would make Zeus tremble. I feel something related to pity for her. But not pure pity. It is laced with some other feeling.      
          But that doesn't matter. The only thing that matters is that my father is an adulterous little prick. And the only thing that matters is what opened up inside of me when I was on the floor of the foyer comforting my mother. About an hour later I told her to go lay down on the couch because stress isn't good for Ria. I found love in my heart for my mother. I realize that she deserved it all along.
           It is night now. 8:30 and still my father has not returned. Damn. That little home wrecking slut must have a really hot body 'cause he's been with her since 2:00. Or maybe he has multiple whores on the side. Oh God. My father is a dispicable man. I refuse to call him my dad or my father. I guess just call him Sperm Donor. Yeah, that's it.
         I feel so bad for poor little Ria. Being born into this messed up excuse for a family. Sigh......
................................................................
          I wake up to a beeping sound. My alarm, but it's still dark outside. What the hell? I check the time. 11:45. Oh wait, that's right, meeting Savvy. I head toward the front door, but first I need to check something. I peeked into my parents' room, and my sperm donor was there, sleeping serenely  like he wasn't a Sadistic Spawn of Satan, but my mother was not. Hmm.
I tiptoed down the hallway being as quiet as I could on hard wood floors. I tiptoed to the living room and saw that my mother was on the couch with a blanket. That doesn't make sense. She had gone to bed in her room. She must have moved when he got home. He should be the one sleeping on the couch, not her. My face twisted with disgust.
"Don't worry, mom." , I whispered to my sleeping mother, " If I ever find a way out I'll take you and Ria with me. I promise."
I felt the sudden urge to stay. To lie down on the floor next to her and make sure she's alright. Keep her safe. Comfort her. But of course I had to go.
"I love you, mom.", I whispered without realizing what I was saying. Where the hell did that come from? I'd always thought I hated my mother, but maybe I never actually did.
         I don't have time to think about this right now. I walked out the door and stole away into the night. I reached the alley at exactly twelve and Savannah came shortly after.
          "Hey, Peaches."
          "Hi, Savvy.", I replied. I guess I let on a little more sadness in my voice then intended because Savannah's face suddenly shifted from happy to extremely worried.
"Serena, what's wrong?", she asked.
"My Sperm Donor.", I replied. Now she was angry.
"Did he hit you again? Cause I swear on my grandmother's grave tha-" I cut her off.
"No. He's sleeping around.", I replied as evenly as I could. Her face immediately softened.
"Oh. I'm so sorry, Peaches. No offense, but your father is a serious douche boat.", she replied. A small laugh pierced my sad-mad emotions, and a minuscule smile cracked my grimace.
"It's douche canoe, Savvy, not Douche boat.", I laughed my small laugh again.
"Same difference.", she replied smiling for the smallest second, but then her face became serious again, "What are you going to do." That is something I hadn't yet thought about.
"I don't know.", I answered, running my fingers through my straightened hair. It's usually curly, but I thought I'd mix things up a bit, "I could start by being a better daughter to my mother. I don't want her to have a husband who doesn't love her and feel like her daughter doesn't either."
"Good idea," she replied thoughtfully, "But are you ready to forgive her?"
"Right now I don't see much of a choice."

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