I wake up, jumping out of bed in a jump scare, morning rays casting lights through my room's curtains. The light in my bathroom is still turned on. I jump off of bed and go straight to it, in search of monsters. But alas, nothing there. I sigh in relief as I let my body lean on the wall, landing my hand on my forehead.

What a dumb shit, getting so worked up because of a nightmare. I'm not eight anymore. Still, of course, there had to be something to shake me out of my bliss. Speaking of which...

"Good morning, my favorite goth slut.", reads Samuel's message on my phone. I smirk in response, amused by his audacity. "Good morning, my favorite drug addict". He sends a laughing emoji in response. What an idiot. My idiot.

I guess I'm an idiot too for getting so relaxed by such small words. I didn't know I could be like that. Not anymore at least, not since...

Oh, yes. I've only come to realize Samuel reminds me of my sweet childhood friend, back when life was simpler, before so many painful questions, as well as so many scars on my forearms... I wonder how he'd be right now. I wonder how everything would have been different if he...

No, not now. I won't let such intrusive thoughts ruin my bliss. And so, I take a few long breaths and do the unthinkable: I allow myself to feel grateful. That's right, y'all goth fuckers! God won today, we're best friends now! Life is good again.

Let the sun shine upon this room! I open wide the curtains and make the bed, put on some nice, loud music, and take a nice, long shower. From my wardrobe, I pick my more light clothes, you know, stuff of the rainbow or maybe plain white. I'm just glad I didn't set fire to those before now.

I walk down the stairs feeling quite light, like a Disney princess in her singing scene, an unusual sight for my parents. I just can't wait to tell them everything about Samuel, and how much I like him. Maybe they get a little bitchy, but I'm sure they'd be glad to see me well.

They look at each other suspiciously as I sit by the table, still humming my favorite music from yesterday.

I spread butter in a slice of bed and serve a mug of coffee, as I realize they are both staring at me in silence, dead serious:

- What? - I say, half laughing yet.

They look at each other before looking at me again. Oh no, that can't be good. I instinctively frown.

- Sarah, - says father, insecurity overflowing on his face - what time did you get home last night?

Oh, that's all? That's an easy one to handle, dad.

- I got like, 10 pm I think? - I say, wrinkling my face pretending to remember what time I got home, as if I didn't know exactly how much I arrived past what I was allowed to.

- You're lying. - he says rapidly, startling me - I waited for you to arrive up to 0 am yesterday.

- You know very well your time is 10 pm, miss. - says Mother, impatiently.

I usually can easily handle these situations, but I was too focused on happiness for a change, and this whole thing caught me off guard.

- Alright, everything is fine! I was just hanging out with my friends, okay? No big deal. - I said, eager to dismiss this situation as soon as possible, but instead, they kept pushing.

- It doesn't matter, Sarah. - says Father, eagerly this time, and with increased rage in his voice - this house has rules, and you are not doing your part. You don't have to do anything else here besides studying, and your school keeps calling us to complain about your grades and bad behavior.

Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.

He continues:

- As if it wasn't enough, Ms. Clara called us today, saying her son told her he saw you with a stoner boy twice now. Is that true?

That slut of an old woman, doesn't she have anything better to do than gossip about who I date?!

- Yeah, so what? He is really nice, and sweet, and cares about me. Is that not enough?

That's right, daddy. Big talk for someone addicted to sleep medicine and morphine. Do you really get to judge?

- He is not enough. You can do so much better, my daughter! Someone with a future. You just... keep making all the wrong choices!

- Well, perhaps I am allowed to make mistakes while I am young? Who said I even planned to marry him anyway? Jesus Christ, dad.

What the fuck? Did they really plan an intervention for a weekend morning?

- We're worried about you, Sarah. - says Mom - You've... changed. We don't understand you anymore. I get it that being a teenager can be difficult, but -

- You... "Get it"...? - I interrupt her, unable to hold back any longer - Right. You grow-ups know everything, don't you? You know everything, and yet do everything wrong.

- Sarah... is this all about Adam?

I freeze in my tracks, tears welling up in my eyes. I can't believe she is bringing my dead childhood friend up for no reason whatsoever.

- Ever since that happened... I know it's been difficult on you, sweetie. Please, just tell us what we can do about it.

- Why... would you say that? - I ask confused, tears rolling down my face.

Surely, my best friend died in an accident by the time I was about to become a teenager, leaving me alone and without being able to make new friends could have had some impact on my misery. Thanks for taking 7 years to notice, Mom.

- Sarah, we care deeply about you and want to help you with anything you face. But you are young - answers Father - so you really should listen to us when we tell you things, we only want the better for you.

He just said that, again. That's enough for me.

- Oh really? You want what is best for me, Daddy? - I say, lashing out big time now - do you have any idea how many times I wanted to talk to you about how I feel? And did you know how that went? It's always either "I'm too busy with work", or "This is silly, it will go away soon", or you using me as a punching bag for your useless corporate problems, releasing your frustration on me? Did you wish the best for me, Dad? - I'm crying at this point, and so are them.

- Sweetie, I just... - he lowers his head and cries deeper - I just don't know what to do, okay? I'm sorry if I failed you as a father, but I thought that giving you a good life with money was all I needed.

- Seriously? Now you want to act like a parent? Don't you have some corrupt politician to defend right now?

- That's enough! Your father is good, Sarah - says Mom - don't be so harsh with him. We are just trying to protect you.

- Protect me?! - I lash out in indignation - you don't even know who I am! You don't even bother to ask anymore. You don't care for my feelings or what I want, you don't care that I've been suffering for so long now. And now you want to talk to me like I owe you anything?!

I just can't believe this crap! I'm actually trying to tell them I'm genuinely happy this time, and they are just dismissing everything into "teen's bullshit"?

- It's okay, honey. - he says, shrugging his tears - please, forgive me dear, we are going to work this out, I promise, but that is no excuse for you to act so disrespectfully. While you are below this ceiling, you need to follow our rules.

Alright. I had enough. Foolish of me to think I could share my bliss with my parents. No, foolish of me to think I deserve any at all.

I allow a moment of deadly silence to settle in before I speak my mind again:

- You can do that for now, Dad, but soon you won't get to dictate my every move anymore, and by that time I will gladly vanish from your life like you did from mine, and you can't expect me to ever come to see you again. You'll wither in a hospital bed, alone, with your only offspring never wanting to see your face again, and wondering "Whatever is it that you did wrong". - I say, but words barely form beyond my trembling voice - Wonder not, "daddy". Brand this moment in your thoughts forever.

I stand up abruptly as I run back to my room, leaving my weeping parents behind. I start to cry myself as I lock the door behind me. Just cold, empty tears of despair.

I'm... Speechless. Back to goth, I guess. God is a bitch, darkness won.

Holy fucking shit.