close to you [h.s]

prologue

tw: mentions of substance abuse, anxiety

𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐂𝐇 𝟐𝟎𝟏𝟒
𝘢𝘨𝘦 𝘵𝘸𝘦𝘯𝘵𝘺

𝐀𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐑𝐀

It was here. The day had arrived. My first shoot as a "real model." I'm not signed, but I got cast and this could take off. I'm hoping for the best and of course, I need the money. I have to get out of here. It's been about nine years since my pappa left us and it's been about four years since my mother got addicted to drugs.

I have learned to keep my distance, but it can be hard because I don't have a social life. I have worked since I was sixteen, saving up money for when I can just go on my own, and after today, it may be possible.

The only downside is having to pay for my medication for the past few years. So, I was diagnosed with anxiety and depression a few years after my pappa left. My mamma used to take care of the payment, but since she's too occupied, I have to.

I turn to the left side of my bed and check the clock on my alarm, 6:30. I stretch and proceed to go to the bathroom to shower and wash my face. I would prefer to eat breakfast first, so I avoid brushing my teeth for now.

I head to the kitchen and put a slice of bread in the toaster then check my emails while I wait for it to be done. I eat and then brush my teeth. Once I'm done in the kitchen, I throw on a black tank top and some blue cargo jeans. I slick my hair into a bun leaving a middle part in it.

I avoid doing makeup, knowing they'll probably have a makeup artist, and just put on some lipgloss. I check the clock for the time again, 7:00. I would prefer to leave before my mamma gets in, but that's no longer an option when I hear the door slam.

Here comes the chaos.

I grab my modeling bag and walk downstairs. I hear a bunch of noise as I approach the end of the stairs. It sounded like objects were crashing. I could only think that my mamma was having those episodes after she's done drugs. She always destroys everything in her path after she has been gone for days. I am exhausted and don't know what else I can do. I can't afford to get her long enough treatment, and she never stays clean.

"Mira, where the hell are you?" My mamma yells, knocking the books over near the door. There always was a tall white bookcase by the door for years filled with a variety of books. Most were my pappa's that he left. The ones she knocked down were all big in size to cause the most noise.

"I'm right here." My tone is flat, sounding off due to the exhaustion I felt from the way she was behaving; this was basically an everyday thing.

"Where the hell you going?" She yell, looking like she was in a possessed state.

Her hair looked crazy and teased all over. Her nose was the brightest red. The sclera of her eyes was no longer white, just plain red, and her pupils were dilated. Her teeth weren't super bad but her being on this path for the past few years made them unhealthy and they were barring. Even though she was screaming in anger, I could truly see that she was tired inside from the drugs wearing her down.

"I have a shoot." I sigh. I'm just waiting for the breakdown.

"You never told me about that." Her body is shaky and she's sniffling.

"You've been out."

One. Two. Three. Here it comes.

"I don't know who the fuck you're talking to like that." She walks toward me, but I step back. My eyes grew wide. My hands shook and I tripped over my feet a little. My anxiety begins to creep up on me. I shook my head, trying to breathe, and turned around fully, so my back was facing her.