Tempting Fate

Chapter One

"But Mom I-"

"I said shut up goddammit," my mom yelled at me, throwing her beer bottle at me.

All I could do at that moment was close my eyes and tense up as I prayed that the half filled bottle of liquor would miss me. I guess luck happened to be on my side when I heard the bottle fly past my ear. The moment felt as if it was in slow motion, as I could hear the sloshing of the liquor in the brown bottle, the way I could hear and feel the air as it flew past me, shattering after it hit the puke colored green wall.

By the time I had opened my eyes, my mom was standing right in front of me. Reaching out, she grabbed a hold of my chin, roughly yanking me until I was looking up at her. I could feel her long nails digging into my skin, probably leaving bruises and cuts that I would have to cover up later on.

"Go to your room, and the only time I should be seeing you tonight is if you leave your room to go to the bathroom or if you need something from the kitchen. Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded my head as she yanked me even closer to her. Our faces were only mere inches away from one another. At this distance, I could smell the liquor just pouring off of her breath. It took everything in me to not grimace at the foul smell. I knew if I did, it would only make her angrier at me.

"Do. I. Make. Myself. Fucking. Clear?" She said through clenched teeth.

"Y-Yes ma'am," I said.

"That's better. Now get out of my face."

She shoved me away from her, causing me to hit the wall that the beer bottle had just previously shattered against. The force from the shove was enough to make me lose my balance. Luckily I managed to steady myself, but not before my foot made contact with the beer soaked glass that was scattered across the floor.

I could feel several tiny shards of glass penetrating the calloused skin on the bottom of my foot. The sound of skin ripping faintly reached my ears as the alcohol seeped into my wounds, causing it to burn even worse than it already was.

I couldn't stop the groan that left my mouth as I ran from the kitchen as fast as I could. I knew it was only a matter of time before she noticed the trail of blood that was coming from me, and when she did, I didn't want to be anywhere near her.

"Casyn!" my mother yelled out, causing me to stop in my tracks.

"Yes?"

"Are you bleeding?" She asked.

I turned around to see that she was standing at the bottom of the staircase, not looking too pleased with me at the moment.

"Better not lie to me."

"Yes, ma'am," I said, feeling my heart skip a beat.

What was she going to do to me? I didn't mean to cut my foot. Surely she understood that.

"Why are you bleeding?" She asked.

"I cut my foot on some of the broken glass."

I could hear my mom sigh before she spoke again.

"Wait for me in the bathroom. I'll be there in a minute."

"Ma'am?" I asked, feeling confused.

"Wait in the bathroom," she yelled, causing me to flinch.

I turned away from my mom as I made my way up the rest of the stairs.

"Acting like you're fucking deaf or something. Making me have to repeat myself. If you would just start fucking listening to me, then I wouldn't have to yell at you so much."

I made it to the bathroom, ignoring her non stop cussing and yelling at me as I walked over to the toilet. Closing the lid as I sat down. It wasn't long after that she entered the room, opening the medicine cabinet as she pulled out the first aid kit.

She walked over to where I was at, taking a seat on the edge of the old cast iron tub.

"Here," she said as she handed me the first aid kit.

I took it from her, placing it on my lap as she leaned down, grabbing a hold of my ankle, lifting my leg up until it was resting on top of her knee.

"Hand me the tweezers," she said, holding her hand out.

I opened the first aid kit, handing her the tweezers. It was only seconds later that I was closing my eyes, wincing as I could feel her taking out tiny bits of glass.

"Luckily they weren't big pieces, it doesn't look like you'll need stitches," she said as she finished removing the glass.

She took the first aid kit from me as she finished disinfecting and wrapping my foot. It was moments like this when I got glimpses of the way she used to be, the mom who actually was loving and kind.

After my dad left us for his new family, and by new family, I mean the woman who was almost twenty years younger than him and their two kids he had while my mom and he were still together. It was devastating for us when we found out, but my mother took it the hardest.

It was almost pathetic, the way my mom tried so hard to get him back. She'd call him drunk, crying and begging him to come back, but it was the same every time. Eventually she gave up, but the drinking continued, until it was no longer just a drunken bender every so often, to where the liquor she drank was like her life source.

Like it was the oxygen to her lungs. That's when she started to get abusive. It started off with her yelling at me, calling me names, belittling me like I was still a five-year-old child. Then it turned physical. Usually if it's just beer she's drinking, then she doesn't get too bad, but when she goes to the hard stuff. Those are the nights I lock myself in my room.

"If you weren't so damn clumsy, this wouldn't have happened," she said as she finished wrapping my foot.

It wouldn't have happened if you hadn't pushed me, I thought to myself.

She closed the first aid kit, removing my foot from her leg. I watched her as she stood from the tub, walking over to the medicine cabinet, putting the first aid kit back. It was always so baffling to me how she could go from being an abusive drunk to, in a split second, taking care of me like she wasn't the cause of this.

"Sorry," I mumbled, staring down at my wrapped foot.

"It's fine, just take your ass to bed," she said, sounding aggravated with me as she stormed out of the bathroom.

Probably to get another drink, so that she'll 'feel better'. Sighing, I stood from the toilet, making sure to lift the lid back up. I limped over to the bathroom door, turning off the light before making my way to my room that was across the hall.

I opened my door, closing it behind me. I pulled the blanket back once I had reached my bed. Climbing into bed, I pulled the blankets over my head, hoping to silence my racing thoughts, as well as my mother's sobs, that were echoing from the living room.

If I was being honest, I couldn't be mad at my dad for leaving. People drift apart after years, they fall out of love. Do I think he could have gone about it a different way? Yes.

Do I think it was wrong? Yes.

Is it fucked up how he did us? Hell yeah.

The thing that upsets me the most, though. Why didn't he take me with him? Why doesn't he visit me or even pick up my calls anymore?

I couldn't stop the tears that fell down my face as my intrusive thoughts won.

Why didn't he want me anymore?

Was I just not good enough for him anymore?

I sobbed out as that last thought tore my heart apart.

Is that it? Is that really the reason? The reason why neither one of my parents seems to give a shit about me anymore.

I'm not good enough. It was a hard pill to swallow, but at this point, I was just worthless to both of them. Dad had his new wife and kids now, and mom. Well, mom had her booze and whatever random man she decides to spend the night with.

"I fucking hate my life," I cried out as I tightened the blankets around my shaking form.