Every day is worse than the day before. The abuse and insults are hurting more. I don’t know what it is my parents want from me, so I asked. We were in the kitchen. I was helping my mom wash the dishes. She had taken my check I earned from work 2 days before; I had said nothing. I figured, I was living at home, why not let my mom have the money. It wasn’t much, but it would have been enough to buy some work clothes. I’ve worked since I was 15. I’ve always bought all my clothes and most of my necessities. My mom never needed to pay for much. Sure, I was in high school, so I would ask her for things from time to time.
She told me I had to help out more around the house. I told her I didn’t think it was necessary that I had to clean the house every fucking day. I have things I need to do besides clean. I go to school, a computer science major, I need time to read, to node. I also work, I need time to rest and review over tax information. Time is limited, but yet I do help around the house a great deal. All she said was, “I don’t want to discuss this, we’ll talk later. You should know what you have to do.” Fuck that. I persisted. I told her to tell me what it was I had to do ever day in order for her to be happy. She didn’t answer, to busy watching her novelas. I turned off the television and asked again. She’s tells me I better turn the television on. How is it that I am supposed to know what I have to do if she won’t tell me?
Just then my step-dad walks into the kitchen asking what it is I’m rambling about. My mom says nothing. He slaps me across the face and tells me I can’t watch television or get online. He doesn’t know English. He didn’t know what I was discussing with my mother. I walk out of the kitchen and walk towards my room. He follows me and blocks the door. He grabs my shoulder and tells me how I’m so stupid, how I need respect, and how I better not get online. He asks me what the hell it was I was bitching about in the kitchen. I just kept repeating, “Okay….Okay! Yes..no TV. Let me get to my room.” over and over. Tears were rolling down my face as I walk into my room and shut the door. I lay on my bed crying continuously screaming, “Why don’t you love me?” I know they can hear me. I glance at the mirror. A red mark was left on my cheek and my eyes were getting puffy.
I don’t know what they want from me. If my mom wants all the money I make until she dies, she can have it. If she wants my cooperation, I’ll give it to her. All I want from her is some affection. I don’t know what to do. I feel like just leaving. I feel like packing up all my shit and just leaving. No car. I thought about calling up redboot and asking him to me to an aunt’s house, but then where would I be. I can’t commute every day for an hour to get to work and school. I’m stuck. Abuse is not the answer.
They can’t have my respect by slapping me around. They need to be nicer to me. They need to respect me. I’m 18 years old, and I feel so trapped. I have nowhere to go. I hate my life.

I stand there, weeping. I can feel the outline of his hand, my burning face. A tear runs down my cheek, and I stifle a sniff. I tell myself It's not your fault, you didn't do anything wrong, this isn't happening, this isn't happening, this isn't but it is and I'm there in the kitchen and Father is mad and Mother is mad and I am standing there crying and I just want it all to stop but they just keep yelling at each other and they won't let it go so I run back to my room but it won't shut out the sound of them the sound of their fighting the sound of my fault my badness please please please please please please please please please please please don't be mad at me i'll do better in school i'll try hard i won't make you mad anymore i'll be a good boy i'm sorry i'm so sorry.

I stand there weeping. I can feel the outline of his hand, my burning face. A tear runs down my cheek, and falls onto Father's grave. It's not happening. Why am I crying?

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