𝐂𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐅𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐓 𝐃𝐎𝐎𝐑 𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐄𝐓𝐋𝐘, Mary couldn't help but let a big, excitable grin grow on her face. She had really enjoyed her date with Brodie and thought that soon he may be added to the small list of people she liked. And that kiss! She didn't have much to compare it to, but she thought it was wonderful.
"How was your date?" Her mother asked, wiping the smile clean off of her face like it was nothing but a stain on the kitchen counter she was perched on. She's drunk, Mary thought, looking at her mother, who had an empty bottle of wine behind her back and a second one next to her, yet to be open. Mary thought that Alice must've had a bad day as she didn't drink very often.
"It was good," Mary smiled, assuming that her mother might be nicer than usual, since she wasn't as uptight when she was drunk. "He's nice," she added, getting a glass of water for herself and then getting one for her mother too. No matter how rude and evil her mother was, Mary would always look after her if she looked like she needed help.
"Nicer than Tristan?" Her mother asked, taking the water from her daughter and watching as she raised her eyebrows. "Still acting clueless? That's okay, I get it." Her mother nodded, pouring the water on the floor and then reaching for the second bottle of wine next to her.
"Mom!" Mary shouted, looking down at the floor to see the puddle of water her mother had made. The Miller girl sighed and walked toward the cleaning closet to get the mop. She began to mop up the water, waiting for her mother to speak again.
"Why are you so infuriating, Marianna?" Alice asked her only daughter, seeing her face fall as a reaction to her real name being used. Mary knew that when Alice used her real name, she was being sincere. She also knew that the question she just asked wasn't said to hurt her, no matter how much it did.
"You should go to sleep, mom." Mary replied, putting the mop back away and then attempting to take the bottle of wine from her mother's grasp. Alice snatched the bottle back and push her daughter away from her.
"You're not the boss of me," Alice snapped, causing Mary's eyes to flood with tears. The Miller girl's breath quickened as she watched her mother guzzle down the wine from the bottle in her hand. "You know," Alice slurred out, pointing at her daughter, "you act like your life is so hard and sad but you make it that way. You're a self-sabotaging bitch who blames everyone around her for her own problems. Just because you're smart, and you play the guitar, does not make you better than everyone else."
