I awoke to the screeching of words I'd never want to hear. Each syllable reaping havoc in my heart, digging its claws deep into my memories. I hid under the covers to block out the powers of speech, but still the hate-filled words seeped into my mind. l couldn't believe this was happening, it was only a minor setback, nothing could fall apart again. But still one thought seared through my mind, recalling the clues, the evidence I should've paid more attention to. No! No! No! The anchored word echoed through my head as silent tears rolled down my cheeks.

Sorrow had already etched its lines into my face. I knew what was coming, I knew what those words meant. I won't let this happen to my family when I grow up, I secretly pledge, not wanting them to know I'm awake. The fighting has stopped but now I hear the stomping of feet and the slam of our old red door. Then my mom is crying, I can here her from a perch upon my castle bed, one of my favorite creations from my... Step Dad? It's not right. She's slowly creaking away towards her room and I still sit frozen, denying all of it. Shivering despite the bed warmer beneath me, I count my blessings. I know they aren't few, and right now, I need to know what I still have.

A roof over my head, I tick off one finger on my hand, food on the table, down goes another, a family to love and kind neighbors, three. But then I'm sidetracked by the utter silence in the house. A house that has been filled by laughter and music, turkeys and bluejays, dance-offs and birthday parties, but most of all, love. I can feel it all disappearing now, dirty water down the drain. None of that will matter once we leave, and I know that's coming, our friends will move on, everything will be forgotten. But it's hard to forget someone who gave you so much to remember.

I want him to come back, to fly up our beaten, old stairs and race into my mother's arms. I want them to say they never meant any of it. That they still love each other, the house won't be taken away, the bills will be paid, and the heaters will finally be put in throughout the house. None of it can own me and yet somehow I know all of it is controlling me, directing my emotions to the one place I can't let them go. I recall a student's bullying words projected towards me, "Go die in a hole!" And for the first time, I think I might. They'll all move on from this but I know I never will, and I wonder if they'd ever move on from my death. I hate this! I hate this! I hate this! I screech to myself, and only one word makes sense... divorce.