I lay awake most nights listening to them argue. The words aren't always clear at first - just voices. Then their voices becomes louder. It always does.
"I already told you that she is my daughter. I can’t chase her away!" My dad yell, his voice crackinng through the wall. "And I told you, she makes me uncomfortable in this house!" My stepmother shoots back.
I can tell exactly what is going to happen from there. My Dad will walk out on my stepmother, then she is going to slam the door loudly. Then, the house would finally be quiet. Quiet enough for me to cry without anyone hearing.
They always argue because of me. Dad says I'm his daughter, that this house is mine too. My stepmother says she never agreed to raise another woman's child. Claiming that she's already doing enough by letting me stay in her house. Where else can I go, though?
My mother’s house? Well… it’s the same over there.
At her house, the man she’s married to makes me feel like I am overstaying my welcome. But he doesn't shout or insult me like my Dad’s wife does. He doesn’t talk much either. Although, his silence says enough. He often doesn't respond when I say hello. One day, I heard him ask my mom why I was even in the house. Mom said nothing.
It wasn't always as bad at this. I tried to fit in and be liked when dad remarried. I desperated wanted his new wife’s approval of me. She ignores me everytime, but I donn't stop greeting her a "Good morning" everyday. I wash the dishes before anyone tells me to and I make my bed neatly, making sure that my things were out of sight.
Her daughter, Amara, was okay at first. She's not Dad's child either but she was nice to me in the beginning. We used to play simple games together, painting nails and trying hairstyles. But slowly, that stopped. Her mother would call her out immediately if I should walk into her room that she’s in.
"Come help me in the kitchen, Amara." "Come here, Amara."
At first, I thought that she really needed Amara’s help with something. It took me quite some time to finally understand - my stepmother didn't want me around her daughter. I heard her talking to one of her friends one day, and she said, "I fear that she might corrupt my daughter with the dirty attitudes she got from her mother" I froze where I was standing. I didn't even fully understand what exactly she meant then, but I felt the hurt anyway.
Dad is always behaving like he doesn’t know what is going on, call me his girl and ignores everything else. In his eyes though, I see the tiredness and I also notice the way his smile drops when my stepmother walks into the room. I, sometimes, wish I could just disappear just so they could have peace.
I came back from school earlier than I usually do, last week. And eavesdropped on their conversation that day, if though I didn’t want to.
"She should not be your responsibility any longer," my stepmother said. "She should be staying with her mother. She’s old enough already." "You are aware that her mother's husband does not want her staying at their house." Dad sounded like he was tired. "So why is that my problem?" She shot back. "I already have a daughter to care!"
I ran to my room before they finished arguing. I cried until I was feeling nothing at all that day.
I have to suffer the result of the decisions my parents made, don't do? I see a frown settle on my mom's husband face whenever I go there, even before I remove my slippers. My father’s wife acts like I’m a thorn in her path whenever I’m there.
Who would accept me when even when my parent won't?
They have been times where I wanted to pack my things in a small bag and run to a faraway place. Somewhere that no one would fight because of me. Somewhere that being someone's child doesn't feel like a burden. I know I can't though. At least, not yet.
So I stay. Believing that one day, all these would stop and they'll come to realize that I never asked or wanted to be the reason for their feud. All I wanted was a family that didn't feel like two halves pulling me apart. I just dream of peace.
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