FEAR

1𝕕𝕚𝕤𝕒𝕤𝕥𝕖𝕣

As a young child, mila has always been fascinated by death. Her father thought it was an interesting trait that could benefit her adult life but her mother, not so much. She always shamed her when or if she caught her searching up death related things on her computer, or when she would come home with a deceased animal.

Mila never understood why she didnt accept it like her dad or at least tolerate it. Although she didnt really care as her dad supported her curiosity. To Mila, that's all that mattered.

She would always walk around her neighborhood looking for dead things to either bury or examine in her tree house behind her parents home whenever she had time. Growing up Mila was considered a freak to anyone who knew about her 'hobby'. Labeled a monster for the things she does. Nobody understands why she does what she does, not even herself. It's just who she is, she has learned to live it with it and lean into learning more and pursuing her interest.

"Mila Lagonah, age 17... Right?"
"Yes."
"Do you know why youre here?"
"No."

"Okay, well.. You were reported by someone. They witnessed you putting dead animals in a bag and walking away with them"
"Whats the problem with that?"
"Well thats illegal.."

"Uh no. There is no law saying road kill can not be taken off the road in this state, read up on rights before you start accusing me ma'am. I am aware of the laws, you aren't?"
"Oh im sor-"
"-May I leave?"
"Um yes, sorry for the inconvenience... just please be more thoughtful."

I stood up and left the police station. My breath ragged as I try to keep calm. Steadying my breaths as I shake off yet another visit to the station. Someone had caught me taking carcasses off the highway... again. I only do it so I can examine them later in my trusty old treehouse. It's better than killing them myself, I dont have the heart to do that. Nobody does. Nobody should.

Over the years Mila built another layer of wood over the walls of her treehouse to make it stronger and a bit more insulated just in case she gets locked out of her house, again. To which happens often. Her mother hates her because of her hobby, her personality...among other things as well. She doesn't mind though, if she had ever loved her, she would have accepted her by now or at least ignored it like most parents would have done.

"Hey mom"
"Get the house picked up, youre going to the supermarket afterwards, then to bed. I have nothing else I need from you today."

I hate it here, I do everything for her. Its like im her maid but im also her kid. Its just cause im different, I'm not the perfect daughter she wanted.

"Hello?"
"Oh sorry mother" I start working on the house. The floors are a mess, I only just cleaned them yesterday. It seems as though my drunk of a mother can't aim for her mouth when stuffing her face with wine. It's sad, honestly.

I grab the mop from the kitchen closet and begin to mop up the red wine stained tiles. Moving on to the counter tops next, trash litters the once beautiful marble. After finishing up my 'job' I make my way to the door, turning my head to face my drunk mother sprawled on the sofa.

"Going to the-"
"Go"

That's low.

I leave for the store, stumbling a bit over some misplaced items in the driveway. I pay no mind to it. Plugging in my earbuds and listening to my favorite song, whispering the lyrics to myself. The streets are lively with people going about their day. A few worried looks from mothers shot my way as they move their children away from me as I pass. Mutters and glances are nothing to me, I've had worse.