𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬𝐧'𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 - Ginny and Georgia

23

"I can't show up at the Halloween carnival looking like this" Amelia groaned, her forehead resting in her palm. She had told her mother about Peter hitting her considering the bruising had become too evident the day after, she wasn't able to come up with a lie. She had given her an understanding nod and a harsh wave with her hand in response as she remarked. — "Teenage boys these days are just the same as when I was young, nothing but low life, narcissistic pricks"

Talking about teenage boys, last night after she pulled away from Marcus, being a mere second away from kissing him, she explained that what happened with Peter was no excuse for them to rekindle whatever friends with benefits thing they had.

It may have been all fun and games in the start but she couldn't carry on like this, because for every kiss, for any sort of affection from him she felt herself falling deeper and deeper into a dark pit of feelings she never had quite felt before. They were unknown and scary and she couldn't let herself lean into it, let herself fall so freely when he had just told her a couple of days ago he always saw her as nothing more than a friend. Still, it was unpreventable, there was nothing she could do to stop herself from falling, and at any time she might hit the ground or whatever foreign was awaiting her.

And, secondly, the odds were anything but in their favor.

"You don't think I have something to hide bruises with? Honey, I'd be called bluewell instead of Blackwell if I didn't" She chuckled to herself referring to their last name causing Amelia to look at her with an amused smile realizing the irony, the bruise on her eye was called a black eye, not blue. She understood her logic though.

"But, first take this..." She dragged out as she poured her a glass of whiskey. "It'll relieve the pain. You might fool everyone else but I know your face hurts like a bitch"

"You're right, it does hurt like a bitch" She responded with a shrug, taking the glass without any objections.

It was odd how she had grown so comfortable as to drinking in front of her mother, more so that she encouraged it. Weeks ago, Amelia felt angry at her, she couldn't understand her or even try to put herself in her mindset, but now the lines had become blurred and she found herself identifying with her. Something that had been her worst fear the last year starting to become reality, the fear of becoming her.

But, that fear had diminished over time as she found the feeling of toxin in her body relieving, comforting. It was the only thing in her life that felt consistent, or as consistent as it could be. And, if it was going to end up ruining her, at least she was the one doing it to herself, not letting it fall into someone else's hands.

As her mom took them up into her bathroom she went into her makeup bag taking out a foundation which read — tattoo cover-up — before explaining that it worked just as good if not better on bruises. She would bother to ask why she had it but her various rants about previous shady ex's and her newfound love of tinder pretty much explained it.

As they sat, both on each of their chairs as she patted the foundation onto her skin, it truly felt the closest to a mother and daughter moment in months.

And, as she looked at her she felt bad for ever judging her.