𝓕ᵃᵗʰᵉʳ'ˢ 𝓟ᵉʳᶠᵉᶜᵗ 𝓛ⁱᵗᵗˡᵉ 𝓖ⁱʳˡ

V | III

unedited as always <3

★・・・★

CHAPTER — III
part five

YOU OPEN your eyes. Your head hurts, and you have to make a conscious effort to focus your sight on what lies above you - you quickly recognized it to be your mother's face, scrunched up in worry. You're in your bedroom, she's sitting on your bed.

"Darling." She says when you try to sit yourself up. She helps you and slides an arm around your waist, lightly hugging you. "Did you sleep well ?"

You repress the swarm of feelings pinching your heart. You're angry and disappointed in your parents. You won't let yourself get swayed by emotions although you did miss them. It feels like it's been forever since you've last seen them both

"... we have to talk." Your voice is groggy from all the sleep. Hazing is a great substitute for melatonin, you realize.

Your mother looks like she'd been expecting this. "Sure, darling, we can talk." She suddenly scoots to the side and you notice your father sitting on a chair, at the very back. Your eyes narrow.

With a twisted sense of satisfaction, you notice that he looks pretty unwell. He probably hasn't slept very well these past few days judging by the heavy bags under his eyes. His hair is messy and there's a light stubble on his face.

"You both know." You state.
But how much do they know ? You don't ask. You don't want to know. Embarrassment warms your cheeks. They surely know enough. You're secretly hoping they don't know about what transpired in the confessional.

You promised yourself you wouldn't let yourself be hurt by your parents anymore, but their reaction isn't something that you prepared yourself for. You were ready for guilt, culpability. Hell, you were even expecting them to try to deny to it.

Indifference isn't something you were expecting. Your heart constricts so hard in your chest it hurts. You gulp down your saliva, forcibly preventing yourself from crying. You don't want them to see you so affected. They don't deserve it.

The silence is defeating, but tells you more than you need to know.

Your mother gracefully smiles, the corners of her mouth lifting up, "We know."

"We have to leave this town." You hope you don't sound too desperate although you are—because you want to be mean, you want them to know how deeply hurt you are.

"Darling—"

"No. If you don't leave with me, I'll leave alone." Legally, you can do it. You're 18, an adult. However the thought feels foreign, you've never felt like an adult, never felt independent.

Your mother's facial features harden, her smiles is gone. She stares at you for what feels like hours, before tilting her head to the side, "You won't leave. You can't." Her tone is strangely ominous and it sets you off.

"I'm an adult. I can." You've never done so much as argue with your mother or your father before. There was no reason to, you've always done as they told. You've always been your parent's perfect little girl, but frankly you're tired of it.

Your vision of your parents is distorted and your trust in them shattered. The father who you use to hold in high regard is now nothing but a weak, fragile man in your eyes, always looking out into the space as if he couldn't fucking focus on what was happening in front of him. Your mother is a control freak, who thinks she can still boss you around now that you are a full fledged adult.

"What about the other villagers ? Are you going to leave them alone in their demise ?" She wonders with an airiness that ticks you off. You shake off the hand she placed on your waist.