An Overhang

Dad was holding his patience while mum blamed all the little things for my disorganisation. This morning, I spent half an hour in the bathroom, going through as quickly regretting the fact that I did not wake up to the siren of my alarm. I looked away in heavy guilt, thinking that it would be over soon – that it would not get any worse. I forced a banana down my throat and splashed open the orange juice in effort to rush, which blistered the open wound on my thumb. I gulped the little portion of juice and grabbed the tissue along my way to the car.

Finally settling in the back seat, I faced a mouthful of argument from my mum. I did not dare to speak out, to say anything that would harm me further. The slightly edged voice of my father's broke the conversation. I jumped slightly, not realising that he had kept in a dangerous silence all the time. He asked me, what time precisely would I like to come home. With a moment of hesitation, I thought that it would be wise to leave them at their peace. So that I would not stress them further, because of my careless behaviour. So I mustered all the confidence and struggled with a croak, "2pm, with the Driver."

That did it.

There was an ear-splitting shout in the break of his patience, bangs on the dashboard like gun shots for man slaughter. I shuddered in fear, as he screamed a gurgle of words like "selfish", "inconsiderate" and "arrogant", commenting that I was provoking his anger, that I would rather go home with an 'Indian' driver at 4pm. And just like that, I could feel my chest tightened, tears blurred my vision, as I choked for air in effort to gain control. I covered my face with the blood-stained tissue in shame and cried silently. I looked outside the window pane, desperate for light, but only to see the dark dreary sky falling.

I got both my parents worked up in 10 minutes without meaning to. All I wanted is to make the situation happier, but I'm such a careless f*cker that I even f*cking failed at that. As soon as I reached school, I shriveled for a quiet forgiveness in asking for their hand and quickly slipped away across the road and into the depths of the building. For a split-second, I wished a car met me.

I hid my sore face in the dark curtains of my hair away from the faces that scanned me as I passed. I had cleared slightly when I reached to the library and greeted my friends, a reasoning lie ready at the top of my head. Their kind voice of concern hit me like a hurricane and I could feel the tears collecting again. Change the subject, sympathy is not deserved for the culprit.

Art Exhibition will be held tonight, on the the day of the dreadful morning. I don't know how I will cope with it, them being there. I'm a sinner. I could only pray it would be alright. Confidence, dissolved and forward was an air desperate for a environment to take my mind completely off of it.