2 The Words That Left Scars

I always despised walking.

Even before I was forced to spend every day of my worthless life walking around. When I had a home to go back to with a cozy couch that I could relax on. It pains me to remember those frostbitten evenings when I'd make myself go for a walk and no, the memory of my fingertips nearly falling off from the cold is not why it hurts to remember them.

I'd make myself get some exercise and after one lap of the town I would be running home. That crimson door is burned into my memory. I can see it in my mind as if it was only yesterday I last saw it. Even though it has been well over five years.

I would burst in the door almost immediately being greeted by the woman I loved most swooping me into her arms. As a child I noticed everything about her. The way she kept her hair short so it would stay out of her face, how she always made sure to give me extra marshmallows on a chilly day, and her smile. It's the little things that make these memories so precious to me.

So she would squeeze me tight and say "Oh my lord! You're absolutely frozen, get in the sitting room right now and I'll make you a nice cup of tea" shortly followed by me being wrapped in a fluffy blanket. Talking about her makes me smile to this day. But it also brings a tear to my eye, along with the fact I don't know when I'll see her again. And that scares me more than anything else in this cruel world.

Of all the horrors in this world. War, hunger, sickness. The one thing that shakes me to my very core is the fact I don't know if I'll ever see her face again. Although I doubt I would be able to face her. The only thing I have left of her is a photo I bring around in my shoe.

I decided it was time to look at it again.

Now this mightent seem like a very big deal to most. It's just a piece of paper..... Right...? Well no, no it isn't just paper. The last interaction I had with my mom was less than pleasant.

She had found the shoebox under my bed. It took her a while to process what she was looking at.

'How? How could my little girl be a druggie? No... No this must be some kind of mistake. Maybe it's a joke. It has to be a joke.'

Thats what I imagine was going through her head when she opened it. The fact she didn't confront me until hours after her discovery makes me think she was in denial. But the used, filthy syringes spoke for themselves. And the little bags of white powder confirmed that it wasn't just some new medicine..... The last conversation I ever had with my mother went like this, from what I can remember.

"KATIE"

I dropped the glass I was holding and immediately turned around to meet my mother's gaze.

"What. The fuck. Is this."

"What's wrong? Are you ok?"

"Yea Kate. I'm fine. Completely fine. What about you? How are you feeling lately? A bit light headed maybe?"

"ok I guess, what are you-....."

Thats when I noticed the shoebox tucked under her left arm.

"Is there something you need to tell me?"

"It's not what it looks like....."

"What is it so huh?"

"Listen I swear I'll go to rehab as soon as I finish college, I just can't risk failing this year my whole life will be-"

"Get out."

"... What?"

"GET OUT OF MY HOUSE. YOU ARE A DISGRACE, PACK YOUR BAGS AND LEAVE."

"Mom calm down, please, it's not as bad as you think"

"I SAID OUT"

She shoved me to the floor.

I don't think she remembered the glass I had dropped before. It pierced my skin like a million blades. The blood flowed out of my arms, back and legs. I just stared at her. I couldn't even speak I was in so much agony. The expression on my face as I raised my hand was enough to send her into pure panic.

She rushed me to the hospital and we were there for hours as they picked every last shard of glass out with nothing but a pair of tweasers.

We sat there in silence when the nurse left to grab bandages. Eventually she spoke up.

"I meant what I said before...."

I looked over my shoulder at her.

"Your not coming back to my house when we leave here."

"Where to so?"

"You'll see, now shush."

After the nurse bandaged me up, we went out to the car. I had an awfully bad limp and the nurse recommended I stay in a wheelchair. I was about to agree, but my mother cut me off and said that wasn't necessary.

As we drove down the road I leaned on the pillow I was given.

"So, where am I going."

She pulled over to the footpath, it was filled with people and the town seemed extremely busy.

"Out."

I swore I miss heard her.

"Get out, your on your own now. Don't come back to me. And I won't come looking for you."

She threw the shoebox at me. And gave me a death glare. I reluctantly got out of the car. So yeah, I'm not being metaphorical when I say her words left scars.

As I pulled out the photo, the tears began to run down my cheeks.