The Last Step (a Matthew Espinosa fanfiction)

Chapter 1: In the End

In the end she seemed happy. I guess even as her mom I couldn't tell. She wasn't much of a talker. She wrote. She wrote all her feelings down in this one journal. The pages were torn and scribbled on and when she was gone I could feel the book's bumpy words, which were written in a black pen. I imagined her as she wrote in this book. Was she ever happy?

(5 months earlier)

February 17, 2015,
I think I'm sick. I don't feel good at all, and honestly I don't want to write in this stupid book anymore. But, I promised this would help. Nothing's gotten better from this, so I don't know why I'm writing in this still. I'm getting very upset right now so I'm going to go.
Amelia

I close my journal and put it behind my bed, a daily ritual. I really hated it. I have no idea why I started it, but I just can't stop. I feel like my very own author when I'm writing, even though my most recent entry was short and mean spirited. Lately things have gotten worse. My parents have been fighting a lot, and I've lost more friends than I can count on my small cold fingers.

I fall right onto my big king sized bed. My room wasn't very big, decent sized. But my parents always wanted the best for me so they decided to get me the best bed money could buy. I would rather have clothes, but my mom wanted me to have good sleeping habits. She worried about the silliest things.

"Dinner is readyyyy!!" I hear my mom yell from the kitchen. I've never been very fond of either of my parents, but my mom was less harsh than my dad. I walk down our many stairs to the kitchen. It was as white as ever, I never liked it. The white burned my eyes and it made me feel like I lived in a hospital. "Where's dad?" I ask while getting my plate ready. "He won't be making it to dinner tonight." My mom answers reluctantly. "Probably out with one of his many girl friends." She adds. I hated when mom talked like this. Even though I could hardly stand my dad, he didn't deserve to be talked about behind is back. I've always hated people who do those types of things.

"You shouldn't talk about dad like that."

"You shouldn't tell me what I should and should not say. Now eat."

My mom was always like this. I rarely defended my dad but today I was in the mood to make my mom mad. I have no idea how I get in these moods. I just start to feel cynical. I want to reek havoc in the house. So I argue back.

"You need to chill out. I'm just standing up for my father."

"He was never a father to you. I was the father, and the mother."

"That's bullcrap Mom, and you know it. Quit blaming him for your mistakes."

"I don't like that tone in your voice, your food is getting cold. Eat."

She puts an uncomfortable emphases on the eat part. Which notifys me that I'm getting right to her. So I decided to pull out the big guns.

"Your the one who cheated, you skank."

Tears weld up in her eyes. She balls up a fist and looks straight into my eyes. This is my favorite part, the part where everything is about to happen all at once. This will test her human strength and integrity, as well as mine.

"Hit me." I say with a smirk. I can almost see the flames coming out of her head. And what happened next is something that will stay with me forever. My mother punched me square in the nose. Pain shot immediately up my face and spread out like a flower in the spring. My hands immediately go to my nose, which was already gushing blood. I look at her. I analyze her. She looks relieved, no no no. She looks happy. A smile comes across her face, like she's accomplished something big. But I show no emotion. I slowly get up to go to my room, still holding my nose. "Don't forget to clean the dishes sweetie!" She exclaims. I just keep walking and try to comprehend what just happened.

Guess my mom isn't so sweet anymore.