"Honey? Is that you?"
My mother came voice-first into the den. Then her face, with her beautiful, middle-aged skin set into the faintest beginnings of smile or frown lines, and her blond hair streaked through with icy highlights she was too busy to redye.
My stomach twists. Sometimes I think I'm pathetic for having this reaction to her, to think kind, amazing women who is my mother. But then I say,
"I was in the Starbucks in Denver. But not for long, then Jessica came to find me."
Even without the falling in love with the worker, her face turned to the disappointment and confusion that never failed to twist my stomach again. The disappointment that made me vow every time to just be a good Armini girl and not let that face ever - ever look that way at me again.
Blood gurgled to my face, leaving my brain as an unthinking mess of disappointment and sadness and anger.
"Kamilla, why?"
"Why not!?" I responded unintelligently. "Mom, I'm allowed to!"
He became defensive, so I became guilty. The usual game, panning itself out to drain me with no real reason of all my emotions. She was the only one who could still work me up like this on her own. Not the toxic, manipulative people in my life. Not the narcissists or the ill ones. My non-toxic, good-person of a mother.
What is wrong with me?
"I don't know why you keep pushing them. It's not safe out there by yourself!"
"It is!" Dumb. Why do I have to be so dumb? "Why do you have to guilt-trap me about it? It's allowed." I felt the tears built behind my eyes again.
"Okay." She looked at me with a face as far from the smile she'd had as possible.
I hate that she wasn't smiling anymore.
"Okay, sorry, I won't do it anymore. I'll try. I'll tell you at least next time, okay?"
"Okay."
"Goodnight." I hugged her, and she hugged be back. My stomach was still in torrents.
"Goodnight, honey."
I walked to my room quickly, and without looking back. The I placed my hand on the doorknob, and it whizzed, then the door opened for me. Small amber lights beneath surfaces in my room lit, but not the main light above the enormous bed that took up most of the room.
I stopped dead, vaguely hearing the door close and lock behind me. Because I was not alone in my dimly lit room. There was a man sitting on the edge of my bed, eyes gleaming with the faint golden light.
His face was in shadow, but his eyes. So pale they were almost amber...
My already cold blood tripped. "Eric!?"
YOU ARE READING
Deep End
AcakKamilla is Armani, a part of a secret community of people with their entirely own culture, city, traditions. But she is also sad. And angry. And rebellious. And too flirtatious and too much of a loner and too depressed. But above all, Kamilla is a d...
