Valentina
It was almost midnight. The temperature was warm, even after the sun had gone down at night, and the moon shone its light on my bed, casting dark shadows across my room. I thought about how peaceful it was-at first, how my parents had welcomed me home with a tight embrace, and how excited I was that the semester was finally over and I could return-and a smile slowly made its way across my face. I disliked school. School was hell, literally. And sometimes, I didn't feel motivated to do the whole school stuff, but then, I dream about me being a good photographer and in the next couple of years-being famous for it. It helped. It still does. Turning to my side, I sighed contentedly. I was reading a book in the dark, trying to make up the words as I went
I do this when I'm too excited to sleep
when I heard my parents arguing with a not-so-subtle voice from down the hall.
My ears perked up instantly, and distracted, I dropped the book, a frown settling between my brows. What's going on? I thought mom and dad would be asleep by now. I slipped my feet into my slippers, stifling a yawn. The journey had been a tiring one. I wouldn't want a repeat, but anything was better than being at school. I closed my room door softly behind me, curious as to what was going on. I crept forward, following the sound of my dad's voice, telling my mom to calm down so I wouldn't know anything, and I ended up in front of my parent's room. It was dark, and I could barely see. So, I hid in a corner, listening in on their conversation.
"I keep telling you to stop. You're in a lot of debt already," my mom said, her voice gravelly and a tad bit frustrated. I didn't want to eavesdrop on them, because it felt wrong, but when I heard that, I was shocked and decided to stay, to gather more information.
"We're not doing this. We're not going down that road again," dad was saying, and mom cut him short.
"Oh, really? You've been avoiding talking about this. It's not fair." Her voice had risen to a high pitch and I knew she didn't care, at this point, if anyone heard her.
"Shh." I imagined dad placing a hand on his lips in an attempt to silence her, but mum huffed, refusing to keep quiet.
"And you think that's going to solve anything? Oh, hell! I'm done with this. You know what? It's fine. I'm fucking tired of putting up with everything." Her tone set me off and I didn't know if it was the way she shrieked close to the end of her statement, or if it was the flagging of her arms by her sides, but before I could think, dad stormed out of the room through the ajar door. My heart pounded loudly in my chest. Mom didn't follow him out, and the next thing I heard as I returned to my room, my body drenched in a cold sweat, was the sound of dad picking up his car keys to leave the house. That night, he didn't return home.
