infatuated.

Chapter Five

Two days later, I come from school. The excitement is still inside me about the fact that I've been asked out by Brandon. It's what I was looking forward to the whole day.

"What are you all excited about?"

My mother's gravelly voice cuts through my happiness like a knife. I shift my gaze to her and reply, "I have a date later on today." It makes me smile just saying it. I have a date.

My mother doesn't share the sentiment. "Wow. Was he drunk?"

I frown. "You don't think I can get a date by myself?"

"Well of course not. The Wood women don't get any good lover boys. That's why I'm with such a bastard." She chuckles, which soon turns into a hacking cough.

It's alright. I try to calm myself down, keep those darker thoughts at bay. She hasn't met him. "Once you meet him, you'll sing a different tune." I force a smile. It's going to be one of these days, but not anytime soon. Not in this swamp hole.

"There wouldn't be any reason why I would want to even--" Her eyes light up. "I just had the most brilliant idea." She walks up to me and takes my hand.

"Honey," she starts, and I know she wants something. "You could get something for us, for you."

"What are you talking about?" I ask cautiously. She takes the cigarette out of her mouth and sets it on the counter, trading it for a fake smile. All I see is her cavities.

"I'm talking about conning him, Lys."

What my mother and I have in common is that she feels the same way: empty inside. But she fills it with smoke and liquor, and I have someone who fills it for me. Brandon doesn't deserve to be treated like that.

I won't be like her.

I remove my hands from hers and she frowns. "Yeah, I'm not doing that. Get your paycheck or whatever, that'll sustain your addiction."

"I can quit whenever I want to." She says, but we both know it isn't true. "And the restaurant paused my payflow. They're always on my back for taking breaks."

Yeah, who knows how many breaks you'll take to keep up with that cancer stick. "I don't care." I won't use Brandon.

She walks up to me and grips my shoulder. Hard. "You disrespectful rat." She hisses in my ear, turning me around and shoving my shoulder into the wall. She must've been really angry, because when I try to release myself from her grip, I stay in place, her nails digging into my skin.

"You better get me that cash, or I'll make sure your boyfriend doesn't see you as pretty, ya hear?" She takes the cigarette and presses it against my left palm, and I hold in a scream.

"When you see that, you remember not to talk trash about me again." Smoke from her mouth fills my nose, and I cough. She releases me and wipes her face, and I rush upstairs, closing the door.

I lie on my bed, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around myself. I grit my teeth, hating feeling helpless. I look down at the burn mark on my palm, staring at it. The dark thoughts emerge again, and I listen to them for a bit, too blinded by rage.

Brandon should be cherished.

I will not steal from him.

My mother needs to be stopped.

How good would it feel to just shove her down the stairs?

Maybe I could put a drug in her coffee, frame it as an overdose.

Oh, or possibly just go the painful route and torture her the way she just tortured me--

I notice my fist tightening once again, and I release my fingers. Blood. Four drops where the tiny crest-shaped marks are printed.

I wipe it on my carpet and lie on the floor. I need to remain calm. I need to remain sane. Brandon is the top priority, and I can't compromise that with my... strange thoughts.

I walk to the bathroom and undress to take a hot shower for as long as the water remains hot. As I wash away the dirt from the day, I wash away the darkness of my mind.

Or so I hope.