Lay me Down to Sleep

Chapter 9

  Walking home tonight my head is hung low in shame. I don't know if I'm more ashamed of kissing her or hurting her. I never meant for her to find out, it had never occurred to me that she might also have been feeling the bond. I'm such an idiot.
  When I get to the door I'm so distracted by my own thoughts that I don't even think to be careful.
  "Where have you been!", snarls her hideous voice. A kettle on the stove screams its outrage in unison.
  "I was out with a friend", I mutter. Her face curls further in distaste. She hobbies towards me until she's inches from my face. She takes a deep breath in a then out again. Her breath is rancid with whatever cheap liquor she managed to garner.
  Her yellowed eyes light with further rage, "oranges". My heart stops in my chest, but I keep my face stoic.
  "You're whoring yourself out to other little sluts now", I stay silent.
  "Well who is she?", she mocks, "what can she do for us?". I nervously clench and unclench my fists digging my nails into my palms. She takes note of even this.
  "You want to do something with that fist?", she punctuates her question with a jab to my chest and a healthy dose of spittle. She stares at me for a long pause dating me to do it. I don't, I never do.
  "Now who is the slut?", she asks.
  "A human".
  The blow comes to my stomach. Always so careful to avoid my pretty face, the one good thing about me.
  "You sinner!", she wails digging her nails into my arm and dragging me into the kitchen.
  She pushes me down into a prayer position. I obediently clasp my hands together and close my eyes knowing it's what she wants.
  "Tell me the fifth commandment", she demands. The screaming of the kettle stops and despite knowing what's coming I do as she asks.
  "Honor your father and your mother", I whimper as the scalding water starts to hit my head.
  "Don't stop", she says, "you're going to sit there and recite that to me until this thing is empty". I start again and so does she. Every time I stop to scream or sob so does she, prolonging the torture. She's careful that the water only touches my scalp and neck.
  "How can you be so selfish? So ungrateful? After all I've done for you, and you do this just to hurt me huh? I birthed you. I raised you. I kept a roof over your head and food in your mouth. Everything is your fault you know? If it weren't for you I'd still be beautiful, wouldn't have gotten stuck with that loser father of yours, and would probably be the luna myself. Instead, I have to sit around waiting for you to do the one thing you're good for. Do you like seeing your poor mother destitute?".
  I keep my eyes closed through her shouting. She doesn't really want an answer and I'm too desperate for relief to give one even if she did. That's the thing about burns, the initial heat doesn't hurt near as much as what comes next. My skin is screaming and I know there will be a second-degree burn tomorrow.
  She screams a bit more before storming out of the house likely to get more alcohol. As soon as the door slams closed I collapse to the floor. As I lay in a fetal position it occurs to me that I never closed the door when I came in. The entire neighborhood probably heard what just happened and not a single one came to help me. Of course they wouldn't, they never do.
  After a while, I manage to pull myself off the floor and stumble towards the bathroom. Seeing myself in the nicotine-stained mirror I look even worse than I'd imagined. Makeup streaks down my face and the red splotches from crying match trails from where the water ran down my shoulders.
  My scalp is screaming in pain and I know I need to get cool water on it if I want any kind of relief. My waist-length hair will only make things harder. I rummage through a drawer under the sink before coming up with a pair of scissors. If I do this I'll be in even more trouble, but I'm so desperate for relief I'd do anything.
  I take the scissors to my hair and make the first cut just at the tip of my ear. The idea that I can't turn back gives me the strength to chop it all off. When I'm done my hair lays in a messy pixie cut.
  I hope into the shower with the water on cold. I sit in the tub as the water runs over my still-clothed form. Tears mix with water as it all washes away. The water can't hide the huge sobs racking my body.

...
A/n my writing playlist if you guy want to be in the same headspace reading this as I am writing it of for those of you who read my work for the angst and want even more angst.