Sugar Spell it Out

One: At the End of the Tunnel

I flinched internally. This wasn't right. It just wasn't working and I could already feel my resolve waning. How the hell was I supposed to be the well-mannered angel my parents loved so much when all I could hear were the loud, obnoxious complaints of my mother?

In all honesty she wasn't an obnoxious person, she wasn't loud either, but my precious ears liked to play around with me.  It was like my brain sent a secret message to my ears to crank up the volume to twelve instead of the usual nine. Those little buzzards always knew how to make me angry. And recently, she knew how to push my buttons as well. She had gotten good at that. She was my mother after all.

I fought off the impending yawn, my forearms leaning heavily against the dark oak coffee table in front of me. Feeling the familiar numbness sneak its way through my big toe, I adjusted from my cross-legged position, unfolding my legs so they streched out under the table.

My fingers lingered on the smooth, glossy paper before quickly flipping to the next page.

The next sound caused me to lose my train of thought; my eyes moved involuntarily in the direction of the kitchen, where loud clinks and clacks of pots and other utensils could be heard. Despite my irritation, I furrowed my brow in worry.

"Dammit!"

Her soft voice made the word pleasant. I smiled a bit to myself - she was okay. It had been awhile since her cursing had been directed towards anything but me. It would be a terrible lie if I said I wasn't in the least bit hopeful. In the distance I could see the faint luminescent light at the end of my God-awful, never-ending tunnel of depression and confusion. This might actually be the start a good day, week even.

For the past seven or eight months both of my parents have been in a terribly pissy mood and in the beginning I, being the typical teenager, just assumed that whatever they were doing on their supposed 'business trips' wasn't working. The thought being embarrasing on its own, I tried to avoid any more of it as I confronted Mama about it the only way I could, when we went shopping.

The woman just laughed in my face as she lifted the last of the grocery bags in the trunk. It wasn't the disdainful, cold laugh that made you feel about two inches tall.

No.

Her laugh was more maternal, sweet, which made sense coming from her. It was a laugh that reassured me that there were neither any problems going on in that area nor any new babies being planned.

She then told me that I was the apple of her and dad's and didn't plan on having any for awhile. I wasn't too happy about that. I found myself hoping that she was pregnant again, despite the fact that my parents actually had to have sex for that to happen. It was incredibly disturbing to think they did what they did to create me.

My second theory to their sudden change in mood didn't seem to make as much sense as the first, but I figured it had to be the only other reason that she was being so hard on me.I guess I just wasn't doing well enough with my grades. So, with a heavy heart, I buried myself into the books, giving up the social life I had outside of my family. But that wasn't too devestating, considering I'd never actually had one to start with.

Mindlessly, I flipped another page before writing down a few sentences with my poor excuse of penmanship.

"Sienna Dale Valerie."

The imaginary smile I was sporting disappeared from my face completely at the tone of her voice. Its replacement was a frown; I watched the light of my never ending tunnel disappear before my eyes. I thought I was reaching the end, but fate just seemed to make it that my mind continued playing sick tricks on me.