nOEL

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Today, I was going to go visit him. Even though I don't want to. Even though I don't have to.

Mum poured milk into my cereal bowl and asked me if I wanted jam on my toast. I told her I didn't want toast at all, seeing how I only eat that on days I felt happy.

But I didn't tell her that last part. I knew what would happen next.

Mum didn't give me a choice. But she doesn't know what goes on at his house.

I wish she did, and that I could tell her, but I can't, and that made me sad.

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When the last bell rang, I asked the teacher if she needed any help cleaning.

"As if. I barely have anything to do. Except for grade 300 essays, not that you'd like to help."

"How is that barely anythi—"

"Your mum told me this'd happen. Go on, Noel. He's waiting."

And so I was forced out the room, cursing under my breath.

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I stood in front of the doorway hands in my pockets. Inhaling, I slowly pulled one out and pressed the buzzer.

"Noel?" His voice came. I felt nauseous every time he said it. Disgusting.

"Mmhm."

I pressed my thumb to my palm. Sweaty.

The mint green (used to be my favorite color, until he painted the gate with it, so it became the color i hated most) paint was already starting to chip. I stared at it for as long as possible, until...

The door buzzed, then clicked. It slowly creaked to a stop.

My stomach churned.

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I sat on his bed bawling my eyes out. I hate when he touches me.

"Oh, come on," he started. "Every god forsaken time! Look at me. Look at—"

A car pulled up in the driveway, startling him. It was papa.

"Shit! Shit, shit, shit!! Get up, cunt!" He yelled, then sighed a moment after. "He brought your favorite, sushi. So stop crying already."