When Christmas hit the fan.

The last post I wrote told you guys about how I spent Christmas day with the Boy.

This is what happened that night when I arrived home.

-Flashback-

I just got home and was scared my dad would be pissed at me. I walked into hit room struggling to keep the tears at bay. Failed at that one. He wasn't mad, I was relived. He gave me a hug, and I went to bed.

Next day was boring as hell. This was the 26th of December. It was a good day though.

The 27th rolled around. And that's where everything fell to peices.

The Mother and I got into a huge fight over nothing. Well, she did the argueing. I just sat there and took it.

For the first time in my life, I kept my mouth shut and let her say whatever boiled out of her mouth.

And let me tell you.

It hurt. Like nothing ever before had.

Still fuming, and calling me every vile thing she could possibly think of, I quietly began packing.

By the time she discovered what I was doing, she had calmed down. Until she figured out I was leaving for good. Then it started again.

She kicked me out. Well, my Dad did too.

My sister picked me up about 8 pm, and she yelled at me for having an attitude. Till my mother started in on me.

We walked out the door, and went for a drive.

6 minutes later, everything I had kept inside me, tumbled out.

And she finally understood.

See, the problem wasn't really how harsh my mothers words could be.

The problem was what occured when she finished.

Cutting. Self-mutilation. Control.

At about 10pm-11pm, I was stumbling into the Boy's arms.

-Few weeks later-

My mother called. No I love you. No I miss you. Just cold, blunt words.

I was never allowed back. My stuff would be sent to me through my cousin and brother.

I cried myself into hysterics, then to sleep.

-Few weeks later-

My stuff arrived.

In black trash bags.

-Now-

10 weeks and 4 days later, I sit in the Boy's sister's house.

Typing my story.

Typing my pain.

I talk to Mother every few weeks. Maybe once a week.

And it's hard.

My Dad still hasn't forgiven me.

I'm lost without him... I miss him.

And that's the hardest part of all.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ __ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _ __ _ _ _ _ _

The world still spins around me. Not quite sure what to make of it all anymore.

Unanswered questions are the worst.

But It's all for the best.