The words a child never wants to hear.
My mom and stepdad have been yelling that back and forth to eachother since January, a solid eight months ago.
But now, it's finally real. My mom started packing our stuff. She called someone for a mortage and has an appointment with an attorney.
Now, if you asked me about them finally getting a divorce three years ago, I'd be more than elated.
But now, things are different. I still hate my stepfather with the fiery passion as before, yet now, I can't bring myself to leave.
Let's get some backstory before I confuse the hell out of the eight people who *might* see this;
My parents got married in 2015. My mom remarried quickly after a breakup, and about seven years after she divorced my real father.
Scott was okay at first. He was always a little too much. He moved a little too fast. They started dating in April and were engaged in September. They'd marry the next June.
He would always try to one up my real father. My dad and I had our ups and downs, but ultimately, he was my father. I loved him.
The summer before sixth grade, he started to really imply that "dad" word, but also started making fun of my eight. He crictized everything I did. I didn't play sports like Libby ( his daughter) did, or I still played with dolls.
Everything was just wrong to him. I couldn't do anything right.
One time he called me when I was in Hobby Lobby with my grandma to yell at me about my room not being clean (despite it being clean) and I cried right there, in the middle of the storm.
I was so fed up at that point. I told my grandma everything.
So this goes on for quite some time and I finally tell my mom.
It never really stopped. I ended up attempting suicide.
Fast forward about a year, he goes into a knee surgery a week before Christmas.
He has a history of strokes. This surgery is dangerous because they are scared of his blood pressure dropping too low.
Surprise, it did. He suffered a massive stroke, and basically having half of a brain.
My mom made a trip to St. Louis and back everyday for three weeks. I spent Christmas without her.
And you know what he did? You know what he fucking did?
He cheated on her. For two years.
He told her, and I honestly thought she was going to kill him. I was scared of my mom for once in my life.
She couldn't hold a conversation with me for weeks. She was devasted.
I ended up talking her out of a divorce.
He was also pretty blatanly bad mouthing my entire family. He complained about me mostly. He called me a "twitch" which meant spoiled and lazy.
It scared the living piss out of me. I cried so many tears over that stupid text.
He which make fun of my dad and his side of the family. He contiuned to talk bad about me and eventually confronted me.
My mom heard the whole conversation, as he accidently called her and forgot to hang up.
He had no sympanthy for me. She left work to deal with us.
I told him everything. He said he was sorry.
Then, this weekend rolls around. He's been texting my aunt about me, again. Me come home from visiting my brother.
My mom kicks him out. We're leaving.
I don't know where we're going. You can only have three dogs in the city limits and we have six. We can't move inside the city limits.
Which means I'll most likely have to leave this place, which I love.
I've made a life out of the cards I was dealt. I made friends, got involved, made something out of nothing.
If we move, I loose all of that. But if we stay, I loose my dogs. I love them way too much to even bear splitting them apart from me or them from eachother. They are pack. They belong together.
And as I'm writing this, twenty one pilots blasting in my ears, I'm feeling a lot of things.
Anger, mostly. I'm pissed at him.
Also, a lot of just downright sadness. I don't understand why this had to happen to me. We were working it out.
While my home life wasn't fantastic, I was happier than ever at school. I know, surprising. But I had found my element, and it laid in the band room.
I spent hours upon hours perfecting my saxophone and building this unbreakable bond with these people. I never thought I could love a teacher as much as I do Mr. Clay. He's so special to me.
So, what are we gonna do?
While I'm focusing on the negative, there is a glimmer of hope.
If we can't figure out this dog situtation out (which me of all people, has been praying and hoping for some kind of miracle) were moving where we can have six dogs.
I don't think I could handle going to another school, so I'll probably become homeschooled. We haven't worked out all the kinks, but I had such a hard time adjusting that I just don't think I could do that again.
I made a pact with myself that if we were to move, I'd kill myself.
Things have changed a bit, I will no longer being do that, but it was defintitley a thought in the begining.
But somehow, I know we'll be okay. I've got my dogs who need me. I know I'll make it.