|Cause and Effect
Author: blueagle246 PM
When parents argue all the time, it ends up effecting more than just them. Review!Rated: Fiction T - English - Angst - Words: 604 - Reviews: 2 - Favs: 1 - Published: 04-21-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3015490
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Cause and Effect
The cool winter air chills the never silent house. I lie in my bed trying to push the screaming voices out of my head trying to focus on sleep. Every night it is the same thing; my parents yell and shout at each other. This has been happening for as long as I can remember. The only time my parents can get along is when it involves me or one of my two brothers. I can see now, though, it is nothing more than a mere façade of the inner turmoil that surrounds them.
It took me a long time, fifteen years, to realize that my brothers and I are the only thing keeping my parents together. It may seem like a good cause on the outside, but on the inside it is beyond horrible. We have grown up with them constantly bickering over something, constantly putting the other one down. In the end it is doing nothing more than ruining our lives. I know now from experience that I would rather have my parents separate and be happy then try and stick it out and be miserable.
Why can't they just get along? Just for one day to prove to me that they can. I would like to say that their love is like a dead flower, but that would give the impression that it once bloomed.
The loud noise of two doors being slammed shut shatters the voices screaming in the night. My parents have finally gone to bed, my dad probably staying in the guest room, where he usually is. It has been ten years since my parents have slept in the same room, and even longer since they didn't fight late at night.
It used to be that they would just argue occasionally, but it soon escalated into shouting and cursing matches. Even now I don't understand why they do this to each other; why they do this to us. I can tell my younger brothers are confused by the constant arguing, not yet able to grasp the situation. I tell them that mom and dad are just having a little spat and it will end soon. I can tell they know I'm lying but they never question it.
I get up from my bed, realizing that trying to get some sleep is a futile effort. I sit at an old desk my grandfather and I built, and begin to draw. I always draw or write to try and ease my nerves. At first I just did it for fun, but it soon became my escape from the constant arguing. I draw a family, one that is happy and always gets along. This drawing was once a dream of mine. To have a family that gets along instead of constantly fighting. Now, as the years passed, so did the dream. It died off as the fighting got worse.
I draw for hours until it takes all my strength just to keep my eyes open, and slowly make my way back to bed. Sleep is something I always look forward to. It allows me to dream that mom and dad get along, that they never fight and always get along. Sometimes the dreams seem so real I actually believe they are for a second, then I hear my parents screaming downstairs about how my dad never does anything around the hours, and the thought that the dreams were real quickly leave my mind. I close my eyes allowing sleep to overtake me, just to wake up tomorrow and go through the same thing again.