I hurting and hating each other that they use

I buried myself under the bulkyblanket on my bed, huddled into a tiny ball with my arms wrapped around myhead, and my hysteric mind longing an end to this war. I felt myself tremblingfrom head to toe in fright as my eyes overflowed with the tears I expectedwould have dried hours ago. Drops of perspiration were dripping down myforehead onto my pillow as I laid a powerless witness to the hellish battle occurringin the other room.

A piercing sound clang from the kitchen, ringing throughoutthe house and shaking me to the core as I let out a soft scream of horror onlyI could hear. I stuffed my ears with my clammy fingers hoping to restrict thedreadful sounds of my already mangled mind. Tears saturated my face as Imuttered a silent but hopeless prayer to God. “Please, Lord, make them stop!Make them stop! I can’t take it anymore”!Another crash, this time with thesounds of broken glass vases falling to the wooden floor. Mom yelled at the topof her lungs, while Dad shouted irrationally. The only thing I knew to do waspress my eyes tightly shut and bite my knuckles to keep myself from shriekingin misery.

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“Lord, please make them stop! Make them stop! MAKE THEM STOP”!”Zoey get down here right now,” Momyelled. Easing out of my blanket and slippingout of my room, I stepped my heavy feet towards the living room simply feelingeven closer to hell. I stuck my head through the doorway, only to witness thesite of sheer destruction. “Well? Zoey? You heard everything,right?” Mom roared, adjusting her eyes to me. “You choose which one of us youwant to follow.””Who do you choose? Your mom or me?”Dad snapped, glaring at me.I stared at them both for a few moments,and suddenly, a flood of emotions engulfed my veins.

Why are they bickeringover me as if I am some trophy to be won? Why do they sound like they expect meto love one of them more than the other? Are they so fixed on hurting andhating each other that they use me as the rope in their tug-of-war? Do theyactually care how I feel?The words that I had boxed up insideof me for so long jumped out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Stop it!Don’t you guys know you are scaring me!” An awkward silence occupied the roomas Mom and Dad froze, looking at me cynically. My lips began to tremble and my eyesfilled up once more. Without a second thought, I spun around and bolted out thedoor, before I could erupt into tears in front of them. As I yanked the dooropen and flung myself into the coldness of the night, I heard Mom’s voice, nowcontrite, calling hopelessly from the front door. “Zoey, wait.

.”I did not look back. I did not haveanywhere to go. All I needed to do right now was to get out of that house, awayfrom those awful last five weeks of war. I just ran, blurred by tears, in nodirection. What happened to “home sweet home” or “A happy family stickstogether”? Why were my life and home replaced by living hell? Why did thishappen to us? All I wanted was what everyone else had.

I wanted comfort,comfort in a peaceful home where I did not have to fall asleep to the sound ofhorrifying screams and breaking glass. I wanted love, the love every otherchild receives daily. What made me different from all the rest? Do I notdeserve it all too?