Inside My Mind

Chapter Two: Make me sick

The sound of faint footsteps creeping along the hallway brought me back to consciousness. My vision was blurred, however after intensely concentrating on my clock for a minute or two i realized the numbers read 6:14. 'Sounds about right,' I muttered to myself. A part of me was curious though, curious to find out how low she had let down her standards, or in other words how drunk she was.

My bedroom door annoyingly creaked as i slowly opened it, but only an inch, just so I could analyse the mistake my mum made the night before. As I peered out across the sitting room I found him, leant against the front door clumsily buttoning up his plaid shirt. How pissed was she? This man was at least in his early sixties with a bald patch growing on the top of his head in a circular pattern. His remaining hair was a dark, greyish colour, messy and all over the place. And his tacky shirt fit him tightly, as his stomach bulged out like he was carrying a baby. I grimaced in disgust.

He then opened the door to escape, but something caught my eye. Before he left he reached down to our cluttered coffee table and placed on it a crumpled up piece of paper which he had retrieved from his pocket. The second the door shut i leaped out of my bedroom and scrambled for the little piece of crumpled up paper until I held it in my hand. What i read caused my jaw to drop. I felt sick. I felt angry. Most importantly I was disgusted. All I wanted to do at that moment was to run into her room, wake her up and tell her everything. But instead I waited.

I walked to the kitchen with the paper still in my now clenched hand and waited. It felt like hours that i sat there, part of me still in shock about what had just happened. While i waited i thought of what i would say. After almost an hour of sitting in this dirty and grimy hell hole she tumbled in, reaching for the kettle.

'Your... friend left you something.' I coldly stated. Her eyes darted up at me, with a slight look of alarm. I glared back at her, remaing cold as ice.

'Want me to read to you?'

'Honey, don't...' She mustered but i cut her off, held the note up and read out loudly the two sentences that would change the way i saw my mother forever.

'Carrie, I had a great time. I'll send the 200 quid to your bank account tomorrow.'

'Its not what you think Maya,' She said as she snatched the paper from my hand. 'I know what it looks like but its really not what you think.'

'Really? So you're not a fucking whore? No, I'm sure you're just soo good in bed that men voluntarily pay you afterwards. I cant even look at you. You're an irresponsible slut and you make me sick to my stomach. I cant believe I'm remotely related to you.' I had nothing else to say, and without giving her another glance i stormed out. I grabbed my bag and converses then slammed the front door behind me as i left.

After almost flying down three fights of stairs i stopped, attempting to regain my breath. That was the moment I realized what a mess i must look. No make-up. Hair looking like i just got out of bed. Most days i'm insecure, today i think i truly should be. I slumped down onto one of the steps and looked around me. No where to go, no one to rely on. Looking outside brought shivers down my spine. It was a freezing cold morning in January and it brought to my attention that i was still in my Aztec print pajama pants and my over sized bedtime 'Beatles' t-shirt.

Suddenly an idea popped in my head. I remembered who i could rely on. I searched my bag for my phone and was relived to find it with just enough battery left. I found myself dialling the number i knew so well, and the phone was ringing.

'Please pick up... pick up...' i whispered to myself. 'C'mon, pick up!'

I was close to giving up, i reached for the end call button when suddenly a familiar and rather drowsy voice responded. 

'Joe? Joe come round mine, NOW.'

A small smirk replaced my previously worried expression. At least i had someone.