𝐶𝐴𝑀𝐸𝑅𝐴𝑆 －𝑁𝐴𝐻𝑂𝑌𝐴 𝐾.

𝗧𝗛𝗥𝗘𝗘

Mad Hatter || Melanie Martinez || (Now playing)

Word count: 1297

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TRIGGER WARNING: Explicit language, slight (very slight) physical abuse, blades

Proceed at your own risk.

Makayla

After settling on a book, somehow I got distracted. Nahoya kept talking to me about things, and eventually, we weren't working on the project at all. I have to admit, it was kind of fun. I usually never have time to interact with someone the way I interacted with Nahoya today. It felt nice; like I was talking to a friend.

I never had many friends growing up, and everyone that was my friend were scared off once they met my mom. She ruined all of my chances to have a good childhood. She always forced me to do work; it was like resting wasn't in her vocabulary for me.

I never had time to interact with anyone, because I would be stuck in my house, either, cooking, cleaning, or doing some form of school work. Though I guess I don't thank her enough. If it weren't for her, I wouldn't have found my love for reading and I wouldn't be the top of my grade—maybe even the top in the school

I walked home extra slow today, wanting to savor every moment of today. For once I felt...free. Like I was my own person; like I actually had a life. Though I noticed Nahoya walking in the same direction as me for too long. Is he trying to follow me home?

"Look, I had fun talking to you today, but please don't follow me home," I say to him after a while, turning toward the boy who's slightly behind me.

"What? I'm not following you. My house is this way too."

"Oh...does that mean we live in the same neighborhood?"

"Maybe so," It turns out we actually do live in the same neighborhood. His house is a block down from mine. He waves at me as he walks into his house, and I give him a smile in return. That same smile stays on my face until I approach the doors of the place that I call home. I sigh before putting the key in the keyhole and twisting the doorknob.

"I'm home!" I yell through the slim, yet somehow big brick house. My mom comes from downstairs quickly after hearing my voice.

"Where were you?" she asks, sternly.

"I was at the library. I have a test tomorrow, so I needed to do some extra studying." I lie. I don't know why I lied; it was just a habit when talking to her.

"Well, next time tell me. You know what, no. There won't be a next time. You know I don't like it when you go out. You have to stay here, where I know what you're doing at all times."

"But mom, that's not fair! I'm seventeen! That's practically almost an adult." I'm tired of the way she's babied me. I've never had any real friends because she keeps me shelter in this house. I want to go out, I want to socialize. I want to have a life...

I was shocked when I felt a stinging sensation on my cheek. I look up at my mom. "Did you just slap me?!" I yell out of anger, trying not to lose control. Usually, I'm good at keeping myself under control. I haven't lost it in years.

I remember I was at recess and I was reading a book because it was Friday and I had to finish it by Sunday. I was pissed because this group of girls kept bothering me. This day had been particularly bad for me, so I was already pretty mad. These girls just pushed me off the edge.

I don't remember exactly what they did, but it pissed me off so much, that I beat them. So bad that they almost died. It was like I didn't have control over what I was doing, and was clouded by my own anger. Not even the teacher could stop me, afraid of what I would do to them.

Afterward, my dad took me to the doctor and they prescribed me medicine. I had these incidents often, but this was the worst one. Usually, I would get mad and throw a book or two—regular brat behavior—but this time, I almost killed multiple people.

It took me a while to get used to it, so at first I was acting out, but eventually, I found myself starting to get less angry at things. That is, until my mom found out about the meds and threw them away, claiming that there was nothing wrong with me, and that I was just a brat.

I try not to lose my cool anymore, and when I do, I try to take it out on myself instead of others. This may sound like psychopathic behavior, but I'll either pinch or bite my hand really hard. It's weird to admit that, but it's true. I have to inflict pain on myself before I can do it to others. I'm sure there's something wrong with me, and my doctors know it too, but my mom doesn't want to believe it.

"What the hell?!" I yell at her. The slap didn't hurt that bad, but it was the fact that she did it that pissed me off. "You fucking bitch," I laughed to myself, trying not to do anything I'll regret.

"You don't talk to me that way!" Yeah, she's right. She's my mother and that was wrong of me. But to be honest, I didn't care.

"Shut up!" I yell at her. She lunges toward me, probably to try and choke me. She's done that before, mainly to scare me, except it didn't. Before she could do so, I grabbed my pocket knife and point it toward her. It was inches away from her neck.

At this point, I wouldn't stab her, but if she pushed me any farther, I might. "Get the hell away from me, you fucking lunatic!"

"Lunatic? You're calling me a lunatic?! Take a look in the mirror, sweetheart. Who's the one threatening your own mother with a knife."

"It's called self-defense, jackass. If you try to touch me one more time, I swear, I'll kill you." I look her street in the eyes. I'm trembling, and I can feel my eyes starting to well up with tears. But I'm not scared, just extremely angry.

"What's going on here?" my head snaps around to see my dad. This whole time we've been fighting with the door wide open. How has no one called the cops yet? Though I guess I should be glad I don't have nosey neighbors.

"Makayla, put the knife down," My dad says, gently taking the weapon from my hands. I'm breathing heavily from my anger. My dad points to my mom, "You, go to the kitchen, Kayla sweetie, go to your room. Let's all chill out, yeah?"

My dad has always been the peacemaker of the family. I'm thankful that he's around in times like these. There are moments when I'm about to do something bad and he snaps me out of whatever trance I'm in. I love him for that.

"But I'm her mother. She just threatened to kill me!"

"It was self-defense!"

"Tensions are high right now. Let's all just separate around the house until tomorrow morning. If we're not cooled off by then, then we'll continue until you're ready. Understand?" My mom and I both nod.

I go to my room upstairs, my mom goes to the guest room downstairs, and my dad goes to his bedroom. My parents don't sleep in the same room. They never have. This is just how my family functions.

A/N: Another short chapter! I'm really sorry about that, guys. It's not like I don't want to write more, I just feel like I should end the chapters where they are, even if they're short. Anyway, I'll see y'all next week! (Comments and votes appreciated)

- kawataschiq