Another day, another fight; this is how I live.
Marco opened his eyes to welcome another hellish day. He stared at the ceiling of his room while still lying on his bed under the sheets with arms open wide.
'I don't even need an alarm clock to wake up,' he thought and heaved a sigh.
Early in the morning and yet the house of the Harrisons is already pretty active. It was a scene that almost everyone in their neighborhood had gotten used to as it happens quite often. The argument's topic was like any other one that's been on their plate for a while now.
"I told you, he's no good here Pete!"
"Oh Ellie, you know I can't do that, right? He's my son."
"Yeah, he's your son, just yours! He's not my son Peter! And I don't want him near my children. He's a bad influence! Megan talked back to me yesterday! She never did that in her entire life until that boy came here!"
"Ellie you're just overreacting. Maybe you pissed Megan so much that she can't tolerate it anymore. You know her, right? She won't talk back unless you've crossed the line."
"Wow! So this is my fault now?" Ellie scoffed, thinking how absurd what her husband has just said. "That stupid son of yours should be blamed about this, not me!"
"Ellie," Peter spoke her name, tone pleading. "Please calm down. El- Oh god! Don't throw the plates!"
'And she threw it… Damn. How am I gonna stop her?' Peter hides behind the kitchen island as he thinks of ways how to end his wife's berserk.
Without batting her eyelids, she threw several plates towards her husband. It was a chaotic scene and the kitchen is already a mess, full of broken shards of glass and even fruits that were once on the table are now ruined everywhere.
"Everything became a mess ever since you brought that bastard here! Our family was happy until one day that bastard showed up in our house! You didn't even consider what we would feel when you decided to let him live with us!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, so can you please stop throwing things?" Her husband pleaded while dodging a plate and a spoon flying towards him simultaneously. He tried coaxing his infuriated wife, but that just worsened the situation.
"I'll stop when I hit that empty head of yours so that you'd get rid of that bastard right at this inst-"
All the noises were blocked and replaced with the sound of playing music. Marco sat on his bed with headphones on. He was grateful to the headphones that it's useful enough to use every time this sort of thing escalates.
'Right… I'm the black sheep of this family, a total disappointment.' He grinned, his head hung low.
'Ellie loathes me ever since father brought me here. Spent two years and nothing really changed.'
The 16 years old younger self of Marco first came to the house of Harrisons. It all happened so fast that even he himself never knew how such a thing occurred. He hasn't seen his father from the day he was born until when his most beloved person passed away. A person claimed to be the so-called father that was then proven right, the father he never knew showed up at that moment as though entering the scene timed and directed by someone.
The loneliness he felt somewhat subsided when he saw his father. Overwhelming warmth lingered between them, melting his stone-cold heart. A child who grew up without a father will always have a missing piece of their heart but at that moment, the thought of being complete seems like an impossible dream.
Even if he finally knew who his father was, his mother was now gone. It was too late.
Without his mother, he was now under the responsibility of his father. That was why right after the burial, he was brought to the house of his father. He respected his father even after he learned about his new family. Not an ounce of hostility came from him and instead, he was looking forward to them.
It crossed his mind when he finally saw them that he barged into their lives, unwelcomed.
'It's not that I wanted for any of this to happen.'
"This is so frustrating," he whispered and pulled his hair to the back.
He has spent two years of his life with them and yet nothing changed. He was still an unwelcomed bastard.
'Wonder why I still haven't gotten used to it or maybe I did but it still affects me, anyhow.'
"Pathetic."
Deciding to end those thoughts, he stood up and went to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth, set down the headphones when he took a bath and put them back on when he was finally changing his clothes.
As he put on his shirt, his gaze landed at the huge backpack left open at the side of the closet. He hurriedly pulled down his shirt and picked up the bag. Eyeing it with his narrowed eyes, wondering why it was left there open.
Marco is a neat person, almost like a clean freak, he arranges his things brilliantly. It was unlike him to just leave his backpack aside and open at that.
He was still inspecting the bag when a thought suddenly came to his mind. It was like he was struck by lightning which made him unmoving in this position. Gradually his eyes came back to life and he held the bag tightly.
Without having any second thoughts about the matter, he started packing his clothes from his closet and stuffed them inside the bag. It was spacious enough that he could even put on a pair of shoes and slippers. He managed to stuff a few snacks and canned goods that he has been keeping for the times when he runs out of luck, from his drawer. Even the bottle that he kept above his closet which was the safety of his entire savings, was taken. The sum was barely an inch higher than the midpoint.
'Money would be the most essential thing that human needs.' A practical person like him believes in such.
He also put on a black hooded jacket and a pair of his running shoes. After grabbing the usable pieces of stuff that he'll need, he got the keys on his bedside table and was ready to head out of the room when something caught his attention. A sense of loneness shot him and his eyes gleamed with sadness.
Earlier, when he heard the quarrel of his father and stepmother, all he felt was disappointment and grief but now, he's just empty.
He reached out to the picture frame and stared at it, his fingers caressing the image of a woman that means everything to him. The woman he loved with all his heart.
"Mom…" It was faint like a smooth feather floating in the wind.
'This was the last picture I had with her.'
'Maybe if I had taken care of her better, she'll still live.'
'She would've had a better life if it's not for me.'
"I'm sorry."
The teardrops fell to the glass frame and that's when he took notice of the tears welling up his eyes. He wiped the streaming tears on his face and heaved a deep breath, composing himself.
'Get a hold of yourself Marcus!'
He brought the final memento of his mother along, inside his huge backpack. As he ran his gaze around the room, he was reminded of the times he had spent in here.
The room wasn't big but not small either; simply put it is in average size, enough for a person and a few things to be in comfortably. It has a standard-sized window, a single-person bed on the side of the room – away from the door, a study table, and a closet. The bathroom was just adjacent to his room so he was at least pleased with the easy access.
"Two years," he murmured.
It might be a short period of time but for him, it was like a really long while.
'This might be the last time I'll be able to see this room.'
He was sheltered and accompanied by this room through the woeful years he had spent with his, supposed to be, new family. It was the only place where he can breathe in this suffocating house. This is the sole area that he can rest when he has grown tired of everything when everything feels so heavy that he can hardly stand his ground.
"Thank you." He smiled and patted the wall on the side like he's patting the back of a loyal and reliable friend.
'It's time for me to get out of these walls.'
After a final glance, he finally walked out of the room and shut the door, leaving everything behind closed.