ghostin | m.p.

(0.06)

IRL 🦋!

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      "lyrik, someone's here to see you!" my mother calls from a level down. my mother and i aren't close whatsoever. my success is what she leeches off of, for the most part. my dad divorced my mom when i was only three, so i have to deal with joint custody. my dad is more supportive of me, and attends to keep a strong relationship with me.

      "okay, coming!" i put my phone in my back pocket of my jeans, and jog down the stairs. it was quite warm outside, so i just wore jeans and a crop top. 

      "mom?" i scrunch my eyebrows, as i don't see a presence in our lounge. "kitchen, lyrik. all you had to do was look," she sighs. i walk around the corner to the kitchen, and see my mom dicing vegetables with a frown. "the guest is using the washroom. sit down for dinner," she demands as she juggles three equally large hot plates on her frale arms.

      "here mom, let me help y-" "NO! sit. down. now," she cuts me off. with her words laced with venom, and hands trembling, she sets the dishes down, and dusts her weak hands onto her jeggings. "what to drink?" she asks me. bpd runs in the family, so her outbursts don't surprise me. "juice is fine..." i hear the washroom door open. 

      "lyrik, what kind of fucking juice? how am i supposed to know what kind of juice if you don't tell me," she huffs, glaring at me as she waits on an answer. "apple juice is fine, mom. thanks," i look down and fiddle with my fingernails. 

      "so what's for dinner, ms. h.?" i whip my head around. "who are you?" i say, staring at the tall, yet very attractive boy standing inour kitchen doorway. "oh, sorry," he says , flustered. he stretches his veiny hand out to me, implying that he wants to formally greet me by shaking hands.

      "nice to meet you, lyrik. i'm payton,"