Is It Love?

Chapter Thirty Nine

* Chapter Thirty Nine and Forty will be another double update. Get ready people this is about to get temporarily messy as fuck, good luck I guess.

*Trigger Warning*

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Lily's POV

The rest of the day passed by like any other. The classmates take glasses at me as class starts before they are forced to pay attention. The drawn out class periods because my mind can't seem to focus. It's like I can hear the time tick away in my brain. Each time the hand moves it echoes through my ears.

Five minutes. Five minutes until this class is over and then I only have one before the day is over and I can go home, hide in my room and pretend this isn't happening. Pretend everything is as fine as it's been.

The intercom echoes through the class, interrupting the teacher.

"Will Lilith Prior please report to the office?"

My heart beats faster and my hands sweat. Why me?

Almost every set of eyes is on me in a second, I feel like some type of animal on display. I grab my bag and shuffle out of the class, avoiding everyone's eyes.

The hall seems to go on forever, the bland walls seeming endless. But the office comes into view eventually. I open the door to find my principal standing at the front desk. She smiles at me, "Hi Lilith. Your mom has excused you over the phone. You are free to go home," she says sweetly, pointing to the door. I nod my head, not failing to look confused. I stare at her for a second too long, turning around and walking out the door.

Why did she dismiss me? Do you think she finally heard? Or is it just another one of her stupid arguments? But she's never pulled me out before, it can't be something small.

But knowing her, it could be anything.

Either way, my body responds by going into a literal instant panic, how it always does. It feels as if my brain goes into autopilot and I'm in my car in seconds. 

Driving home is like hell on earth but I do it successfully. The radio is silent with just the low buzz of my surroundings. It feels like I've done this a thousand times over, the anxiety-filled ride home just to go see my room and a forty-year-old screaming woman. Just like before, the closer I get to that familiar paint on my house, the more my nerves seem to set fire.

The curtain of my kitchen window is open, probably so my mom could peek out every few minutes. I'm either going to go in there and all hell will break loose, or I'll get yelled at about her favorite sweater in the wrong laundry pile (because yes, I purposely put it there).

Leaving my backpack in the car, I walk toward the door. Tracking each step I take in my mind. The door creaks open, the living room cluttered unusually. When the door closes I can hear my mother's steps get quicker toward me. Her face is red in this angry blush and her sleeves are pushed up to her elbows. I don't move from my spot, I stand here and wait for her to decide what to do. Which I quickly figured out, was a bad choice.

Her hand reaches up, doing it so quickly I only register it when my scalp burns from the strands being pulled. Her hand is fisted in my hair, pulling it and me with her as she drags me to my room. My eyes glass over as I shriek from the pain. My feet stumbling as I try to keep up with her quick steps. When we enter my room she lets me go, pushing my head away making me stumble. My head tingles from the loss of contact, I rub it to try and relive the burning sensation. I look up to where she stands with her arms crossed. My bed is stripped to just the mattress, my pictures and posters were thrown on the ground or half ripped off the wall. Multiple garbage bags sit across my room, full to the brim. My room doesn't feel like mine anymore. It's empty, broken, and ruined. My stomach drops. "Are you kicking me out?" I mumble.