Chapter 3

My face transformed into an ugly shade of pale green. The day my heart had beat for fun, she had made the decision to come home early. Her face slowly turned towards me, and her scrutinizing gaze was fixed on me.

It was hard to know what was giving me the feeling of needing to vomit. Her death glares or my tiredness? The need to sink into my soft and comfy bed, increased by every minute that passed with both of us staring at each other. Maybe it was all the anger that had built up throughout the years, but I had made the daring decision to ignore her completely and make my way upstairs. A warm shower and sleep would do me some good. Yet, that was not what mum had planned.

Standing up and marching towards me, I got the much-needed opportunity to get a closer look at her puffy eyes. Bright red as well, it was a sign to say that she had been sobbing for all night long. The reason? God knows why.

To break the silence, I asked her, "Have you been crying?"

Unexpectedly, my tone had come out angrier than it was supposed to.

"Yes, I have. I was wondering where you've been. It's just that, it's 11 and you didn't tell me where you were going." Her polite voice was a way to mock me, I could see through the bitterness in her eyes.

I gulped and started fiddling with the hem of my skirt as fear took over me.

"I was at a party," I whispered, feeling the panic in my voice. I closed my eyes, tears staining my cheeks as I waited for her to snap at me, to tell me that I was selfish and that she was disappointed in me. But none of that happened. All I could hear was footsteps descending into the kitchen. My mum would never understand the freedom I longed for, but then I didn't expect her to. Maybe her overprotectiveness was because of my dad. Maybe she was scared the same thing would happen to me. Perhaps.

I wiped the salty tears of my cheeks, which were now streaked with black eyeliner that had managed to leak through. The noise in the kitchen had died down now. But hate sunk into me like satan had come for a visit. She was hurt because I had gone somewhere without her permission. But what was the point of asking if her answer would always be a stern 'no'?

I plodded upstairs, straight into the bathroom to wash the dirty makeup on my face. Grabbing makeup wipes, I harshly spread it across my face and splashed cold water onto myself. It was freezing, and I didn't want to have a shower, but maybe I could destress through that?

After stripping off my clothes, I stepped into the shower enclosure, turning on the hot water, letting myself be deep in thoughts. My body had been aching before, but it felt just fine under the warm water. I didn't know how long I stayed there. But once the hot water was becoming too much, I stepped out.

I opened my drawer and fished out some pyjama shorts and a hoodie, putting it on quickly so my shivering would stop. On my way to bed, I took a glance through my door to see if mum was still awake and it looked like she wasn't. The lights were turned off, and not a single noise could be heard; pin drop silence.

I fought the urge to check on her, to see if she was alright but as memories of the aching day came back to me, I stopped, clambering into bed.

The bouncy mattress dipped, as I snuggled in, making myself comfy and pulling the doona over my head to make me warm. I pushed all the negative images to the back of my mind as my eyes closed by themselves, embracing me in a deep sleep.

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The bright light was close to blinding me as it shone through the white lace curtains onto my face. I wondered if mum had woken up or if she was still in bed. Had she decided to forgive me for what happened last night? Chances were 0%. Yet, even with the minimal chances of making up with my mother, I was planning on having a quite normal day. It was risky though, because I, Jenn, was going to take myself on a day out for shopping. And my mama was going to hate it with all her life.

Freshening up and pulling on some outing clothes and comfy shoes, I flew down the stairs, struggling to contain the excitement inside of me that dared to spill out any second. As much as I was feeling slightly guilty for making my mum cry, our relationship with each other was in need of major improvements, and perhaps this was a small start to trigger her?

Entering the deserted but welcoming kitchen, I began to make a small amount of breakfast to fulfil my grumbling stomach. An apple or nutrition bar wouldn't do the job for me.

Soon after my morning meal was made and eaten, I had the temptation to take peek in my mums' room. I was curious to see if she was awake or drinking away like her favourite hobby. Tiptoeing over the hallway and into her room, my mouth shockingly opened at the horrific scene in front of me. Pieces of paper were scattered everywhere, books were on the floor, food crumbs lay about, and bottles of vodka and brandy seemed to be on display. The bed wasn't made but was filled with a stain probably from one of the numerous liquor bottles that she had in stock. Mum was nowhere in the mess, though. My fists closed on their own accord as I became profusely angry. I had predicted that she would go out and drink, but inside of my messed-up mind, there was also the hope that she would sit and reflect, at least just for once. The same never-ending process of drinking was why situations twisted and turned into ways that could never be described. Frustration, worry and sadness were the three things that managed to settle into me every single time, but alas, she had and at this rate, never would realise.

On the verge of ripping my hair out, I held my breath as I listened to the front door creaking open. I cautiously faced my mum, who had unexpectedly stumbled in. Drunk. So drunk to the point where she was lurching from wall to wall.

I yelled, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"This is my house, I come here whenever I want to. Who are you to ask me?" Venom dripped from her voice, and I staggered back. Who was I?

"Do you hear yourself? You're drunk!" I snapped back.

"Am I? Just like you last night, eh?" Great. She was bringing back the events last night. I hadn't been drunk last night, I had only had one beer, but her non-sober self wouldn't even care.

"I was not drunk last night! I went to a party and had one beer. GET IT IN YOUR HEAD!!" I responded violently.

"Well… that's all I'm doing now, no big deal!"

"No. Not at all! You're doing something that's very toxic for yourself, and people around you. People drink, but once it becomes a vicious cycle every single day, that's when it starts to harm you, both physically and mentally. It's time for you to stop and get a hold of yourself."

By now, she was spread out on the couch, and I was standing across her with my arms folded on my chest. She looked like she would pass out, and I desperately wanted to get my message through to her before she started dozing off.

"Listen to me. I'm 18 years old. I wish I could have had a better relationship with you, but it's clear that it's not going to happen with you sitting on your drunk ass every day, okay? I can't wait around any-more for you to change. Call me stubborn or selfish, maybe even childish! But you know what? It's passed the time where I cared. You need to start giving me space because I'm going to enjoy life a bit more and get rid of the toxicity that you bring. Please!"

One final look was all I gave her. I doubted if she had registered anything I had said. But before she could reply, I had already stormed out the door.

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I was firmly seated on the swing which I had been sitting on for the past hour in the playground. I hadn't bothered to go back home, neither did I regret saying those things to my mum. She was probably sleeping on the couch anyway and then when she woke up, she would start to frantically search for me. Oh, how terrible would it be to realise that her daughter had just escaped the prison of her own home?

I pulled out my phone from the back pocket of my jeans as I checked the time. It was 12, and I had no intention of going home, yet. I decided to call Jess, maybe she could come and accompany me for a while. Dialling Jess' number, I pressed the phone to my ears, listening to the faint ring which the cell made.

"Hey, Jenn?"

"Hello, what're you doing?"

"Studying for that chemistry exam we have on Monday, you?"

"Well, I'm at a park, near my house. Care to join?" Her company would help me to relax a little.

"Sorry, Jenn, I would have, but my mum will beat me to a pulp if I don't get good marks in this exam…”

"Oh." I tried to show a hint of enthusiasm in wishing her good luck before I hung up. That was until mum made an unwanted appearance.

"Jenn, finally! Where have you been?" I groaned and ran my hands down my face.

"What do you want now?"

"I want you to come home Jenn, what do you think?" she snapped violently.

"No. I'll come home, the day you decide to stop being so stubborn, the day you listen to me and start respecting me and when you finally stop drinking bottles of alcohol each day!" She looked tired but as if she wasn't going to give up on the argument which was happening.

"You know why I drink, what would you have done if you were in my shoes, Jenn?"

"Find help, mum!! You had other options, but your choice was alcohol, and all it did was make things worse for both of us!" I was shouting at her by now.

"Jenn, if your father was here, none of this would have happened!"

"But he isn’t!” I responded, loud and clear enough for her to hear.

She wasn't supposed to bring dad into this, but she was right. If dad was here I wouldn't be crying myself to sleep at night, I wouldn't need to worry about feeling lonely all the time because I wouldn't be. Mum continued on, not bothering to worry about if what she was saying was hurting my feelings, "And you don't need your dad anymore Jenn, you have me!"

Her words send me tumbling back until I grasped a bench behind me and took deep breaths to control myself. She was wrong. Absolutely wrong. I wanted to scream at her, to tell her to go away, but I stood where I was as a teardrop escaped my eyes. My mum was coming closer to me, but I just stared at her feeling vile at what she had said.

"Don't touch me," I said in a stern voice which was enough to make her back away.

"What did I do?" she asked in a low whisper which made me want to rip her hair out.

"Did you just really ask me that? Wow. To me, you're the worst mother I could ever have and top of that, you're also the world's most naïve person. Congrats!" I said sarcastically.

She was hurt and frustrated, and I swear she looked like she wanted to kill me, but to tell the truth I didn't give. The next four words, I was going to say was probably going to disturb me forever, but it needed to be said. For the past two years, I had kept it inside me, so that it wouldn't hurt her, as said before, easier to forget. But now, I was going to say it, no matter how bad or upset she felt, it was true. Her confused face didn't fail to show the guilt that had been suppressing her all these years.

"You killed my dad! My best friend, the one person who cared about me and you don't even care anymore."