𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙣𝙚𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙣𝙜... | ᴍᴀᴛᴛʜᴇᴏ ʀɪᴅᴅʟᴇ |

14.

14. mother
• • •

BOTH ME AND VAN were let off with a warning. I quickly drove him home then went to my house, helping my father. I know Van said that he would give me his shirt and I left the gifts at his apartment, but I cared more about the well-being of my father than anything else.

I unlocked the door with shaky hands and opened it widely to help him inside. The house was cold and I could smell the garbage. My father wasn't kidding when he said how much he was dealing with. I made by way up the stairs, followed by my dad. "Can I get you anything to drink or eat?" I offered as he sat on the couch. There were mugs, cups and plates everywhere, how was it already so messy?

"Coffee." I went into the even messier kitchen. There was open butter on the island and spoiled milk. The empty ice cream bin was lying on the floor and dirty dishes everywhere. I found the coffee grounds, collected the water and turned on the coffee maker. In the very back of the cupboard there was a singular cup, the one I painted when I was five. I poured the hot coffee into the mug and brought it back to the living room, finding my way through the mess.

"Thanks," he muttered, sipping it slowly. I gathered the garbage on the ground, throwing them in the trash and began cleaning all the dishes. There were a few shards on the ground. "You don't have to do this, Edith."

"You can't keep living like this, dad. Why are there broken dishes?" He took a shaky breath.

"Your mother and I had a fight. We're both fine though." I huffed, putting all the dishes in the sink to wash them. "I think she'd want to see you if she knew you were here."

"No," I refused. I would've waved my wand to clean the house, but then the Ministry would be involved.

"Edith, please."

"I'll consider, once I finish cleaning this dump," I said.

"Just use magic. I'll contact the Ministry. You know what, I'll just do it." Suddenly every single dish and piece of garbage was thrown away or cleaned, put away nicely. Even the leftover coffee was poured out into the sink. "Now go see your mother."

"She won't even recognize me," I spat. "She's too much of a drunk to realize I'm her fucking child."

"Language, Edith," my dad said sternly, but I just rolled my eyes. "She'd want to see your face, just give it a try."

"Fine. I'm only doing this for you though." I made my way up the stairs, finding the only closed door. I stood outside, my fist hovering over the wood, scared to knock. The hand resting by my side began to shake, I stretched it, trying to calm my nerves but nothing helped. I knocked twice quickly.

"What do you want, Aaron?" my mother's voice demanded through the other side of the door. I took a deep sigh and opened the door, light flooding into the room. "Oh. It's you," she grumbled, taking a sip of her wine bottle.

The room reeked of alcohol and it was stuffy. The curtains looked like they hadn't been moved in a while and empty cans and bottles were scattered over the floor along with many shards of glass.

"Can't you be at least a bit happy to see your daughter? I didn't want to fucking see you," I snapped. She laughed drunkly, smashing the empty bottle on the floor, making me jump.

"Watch your tone, little girl. I'm your mother after all," she said. "And close the door." I did but turned on the light. "You're a little bitch, you know that right?" I rolled my eyes as she grabbed an already opened beer bottle.

"And you are shit at being a mother," I replied, crossing my arms over my chest. "You don't care about anything I tell you or ever tried to tell you."

"Last thing you told me is that you liked girls. It's just a stupid fucking phase. You just want to be liked. Not everybody is going to like you, Edith." She spat my name out as if it was dirty.

"I know. Trust me, know. Can you at least show a little love?" I asked, trying to calm down. I felt tears starting to form but I blinked them back. "Do you know how much shit I've had to deal with by myself because I didn't have a proper mother?" I snatched another bottle of beer off the nightstand and downed it, she smiled.

"Oh, honey, you're going to be just like me when you grow up. Just. Like. Me."

"You don't know me," I whispered, my voice breaking. "I'm nothing like you and I will never be." Tears were now streaming down my face.

"You're drinking. You're swearing. You're hurting."

"You don't know what I am," I sniffed, hands shaking like crazy. "I'm not a drunk like you." I placed the empty bottle back on the stand with shuddering breaths. I opened the door with anger.

"Edith." I stopped in my tracks. I don't know why, my mother didn't deserve to be listened to. "Turn around." Her voice had gone soft. I slowly faced her again, she was crying too. "I'm sorry." I gripped the doorknob.

"I don't fucking care, Leslie." I could see the hurt in her eyes when I used her name. "Sorry doesn't fix anything. It's just a fucking word. Meaningless shit."

"Fine," she shouted, "be a bitch! You deserve nothing other than shit." I slammed the door and made my way to my bedroom, breaking down into heavy sobs. Truth be told, I was scared that she was right. I was going to be a fucking mistake.

I am a mistake.

• • •
i wanna cry.
but i'm not going to bc i love pushing down my feelings 😀
ik this is a shorter chapter but it's ok (hopefully)
anyways.
how are you? do you want me to give you a virtual hug?
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