“This is total crap!” I said to my Mum. She’d been sending me to counsellors for just over week now and it was beginning to get on my nerves.
“When will you begin to understand that I’m only doing what is best for you!” she replied, this was her general defense against my objections.
“You don’t understand! They don’t understand! No one can!” I yell from across the kitchen.
I just woke up and was in an okay mood until she brought up the delicate subject of me seeing psychiatrists and my Dad. I had always loved my Parents equally, but now that my Dad was taken away from me, I felt like I was being ripped in two, I felt betrayed by the people I had trusted most. Now that she feels guilty, which she is, she is trying to buy my affection. Always giving me new things to distract me with and not to mention asking the teachers to give me extra homework, hoping it will be a distraction which is total Bullshit! My Father had just recently committed suicide, neither of us saw it coming. The day it happened my parents just happened to be fighting over something, I didn’t really pay much attention because it was usually only trivial matters, but something still didn’t seem right. They had been fighting more and more frequently and my Dad had been out a lot, my Mum told me it was just to check how he was, because he hadn’t been well recently.
My mother has always been overprotective, never letting me leave the house without saying where exactly I’m going, or who I will be with. However, this isn’t even the tip of the ice berg to her paranoia, she has to follow me in her car to make sure no guys are going and that I'm “safe”. I remember when I was in primary school in my graduation year and all my friends were made to walk home from school, but not me. I was made to get picked up, but I actually wanted to walk! Don’t ask me why, but I wanted to become independent... or just to feel free. Even when my Mum allowed me to walk home, which was only down the street, it only offered a small respite from her “smothering”. She always warned me to stay away from strange people in cars or people walking by that might abduct me, but she was the only strange person that I encountered around every corner as I walked home. There were no pedophiles that stalked me, no strange men, just my Mum in her white Camry. Now I know what your thinking, she only wants to protect me, but honestly I need to be able to learn for myself, I’m no longer a child which she can hold by a leash. I only have 2 years until I’m of legal age.
So here I am, being imprisoned in my own home, when other teenagers my age would be out partying, having a social life, having friends. Yeah I know, I guess you’re wondering why I mentioned friends, simply put I don’t have any. Ever since I was little my mother has been so antisocial, never bothering to make friends of her own with the parents of my “friends” and instead she constantly talked about the other Mums behind their backs and kept complaining about how idiotic they all are allowing their children to go out. In my Mum’s eyes I’m her little angel, never doing anything wrong, innocent and everyone else are those who are trying to corrupt me. The first time I had actually made friends was in my 2nd year of high school, they were pretty normal and were really nice, however when I got into sports with them we gradually became friends with the guys in our club. The next week we all organised to go to the movies, of course my Mum wouldn’t have let me go, but what she didn’t know couldn’t hurt her .. right? Wrong, she eventually found out when she came to pick me up, I had told the guys and my friends to go an opposite way to their cars, but they didn’t feel like listening, so the most awkward thing just had to happen. Long story short, I am never allowed to go out with friends again and especially no going out with guys. She made sure of that by talking badly of them and because of my loud mouth I just had to be honest and tell them. I didn’t know at the time that they had such great relationships with their parents and told them everything, because I was never used to that. So of course there was some sort of family feud.
After my Father’s death, I moved schools and house, it was mostly because my Mum couldn’t stand living with all those memories and so we suddenly decided to up and leave. I’m guessing your wondering where my new school and house are? Right next to a bible college, seeing as though my Mum is hard core religious; it was also expected that she would make me go to an all girls’ school, to convey her point about meeting no guys. This school is called Saint Maria’s College for young women and tomorrow is the first day of school for the year. As of last week I’m 16 years old and am going to be attending year 11 tomorrow, most teenagers always fear not being accepted when attending a new school, but not me. Personally my biggest fear is someone knowing my past and then treating me kindly, with pity.
Today is a fresh start, with my newly ironed uniform still warm against my skin and the sweet scent of soap and shampoo from the shower I had this morning. My books are all packed, not necessarily neatly, into my schoolbag which is a dull brown that isn’t flattering at all. Looking into the mirror now, one last check to see that my appearance isn’t too shabby I look at the light and dark blue dress with a sort of tartan look to it and sitting just above my knee which is mandatory. The shoes are leather with a chocolate brown and russet tinge to them. The “new clothes smell” has been masked by the clinging scent of moth balls from being in my closet for a bit too long, I knew I should have taken them out for a bit. “Mum are you ready to go?” I call out from my room.
“Yes, ready when you are Sweety!”
I plod down the stairs from the weight of all my books that all somehow managed to fit in the small space of my bag.
“You know I’m going to be late if we stay here any longer” I say.
“Well you’re not exactly helping, are you?”
“I would if you would let me” I sigh, she always says this, but when I try to help I’m always in her way. I’m not that good at cooking because I’m really accident prone, especially when I’m in the kitchen. Last time I picked up a knife I nearly cut off the top of my finger, and that was only when I was trying to cut an orange.
“Have you got all your books?” Mum asks out of routine.
“Yes” I say, pointing out the obvious, seeing as though my bag is probably going to break with the amount it is holding. Not to mention my back, which is just about ready to snap under the pressure and strain it’s causing for my spine.
We drive through parking area, my Mum not bothering to stop so she won’t be late for work which just so happens to start in half an hour and she has a fairly long way to drive.
“Hope you have a great day Sweety! Have fun and make some nice friends! Okay?” My mum calls from the rolled down window.
“I will” I reply, so I can get going. She means nice as in anyone who isn’t a slut and doesn’t hang out with boys, which I imagine not to be a problem, seeing as though this is an all girls’ school after all. I grab onto the straps of my backpack to give my hands something to do as I brace myself for my first day at school.
