“Honey, get dressed. You’re coming to yoga class with me in about fifteen minutes!” His voice wafted up the stairs, though my door, and past the music blaring throughout my room.

I opened my door to see him standing at the bottom of the staircase. “No, I’m not!”

“Why? What is so important that you absolutely have to do it now?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe homework?”

He rolled his eyes. “Bullshit. You haven’t done a thing all weekend except sit at that computer talking to your friends. You’re coming with me.”

“Dad, no. I don’t want to go.”

For some reason, that made him explode. “You don’t want to go?! Has it ever occurred to you that maybe I might not have wanted to go do things with you that I did anyway? Did you ever think about that? Something that I did with you just because you wanted me to? Have you ever thought about how many times I’ve done that?! Stop being so goddamn inconsiderate and get dressed!”

Nothing that I said at that point would have made any difference. I stared wordlessly at him until he left, then retreated back into my room.

Why had I let him affect me that way? I knew that comparatively, my parents weren’t bad, but sometimes I just had to scream in frustration. My vision went blurry as I blinked to keep the tears from rolling down my cheeks. God, I felt awful. What was the last thing I’d eaten? Shit, those Oreos.

Stumbling into the bathroom, I grabbed my extra toothbrush and turned the faucet on high. Bending over the toilet, I shoved the toothbrush into my mouth as far as it would go, taking it out only when I felt my stomach heave and contract painfully. I did it again, not stopping until the all of the half-digested Oreos swirled in the toilet bowl, mixing with my tears. I rinsed out my mouth and spat it into the toilet, then flushed the whole mess down. Sitting on the rim of the bathtub, I closed my eyes and rested my forehead on my knees, not trying to hold the tears back anymore.