Falling [ 𝓚.𝓥 ]

"𝐇𝐮𝐫𝐭"

We began to board the private plane, and everyone had some sort of stern appearance. There were a few people I recognised, considering they had all worked with my father before. I could only assume the rest of the people were the Romeros' business associates. I awkwardly seated my self down, before my father chose to sit infront of me.
"I never trusted the Romero scums" he spat.
He sat with a glass of whiskey in one hand, and the other resting above the arm rest.
"How long will this arrangement last?" I questioned.
My father slammed his glass of whiskey on the end table, resulting in droplets of his drink to fall.
"Stop asking questions and do as you're told, don't you trust me? Just do as he says like a decent wife".
My heart slightly sank a little, my father's kindness was all just an illusion- he never meant it, he never did. The sudden feeling of loneliness occurred again, I felt alone in a room full of people and my heart began to race, my breathes were suddenly quicker.
"Excuse me, father" I said, as I hastily rushed to the lavatory.
I locked the door, and it felt like a shard of glass was trapped in my throat, and my chest hurt. I attempted to waddle my way to the stool to sit down, but I ended up tripping on my own heels and falling flat on the lily White marble floor. I frantically began to try to get up, using the stool for support but only to fail. I stayed on the floor, and leaned against the wall while allowing tears run down my face. My entire world was just a series of loneliness, I had everyone to talk to but no one to be vulnerable with. I cupped my mouth with both hands in attempts to make less noise, I felt my breathing quicken and my heart continued pounding. Suddenly, the bathroom door was hastily pushed open, revealing my mother who quickly approached me. I continued to sit on the floor with my hands covering my mouth, and my vision being blinded with endless tears. My mother sat down on the floor with me, in her expensive royal purple dress- something she would have never risked damaging. She sat on the floor with me, and pulled me into her chest while rubbing my back and telling me "everything will be okay".
"It has never been okay" I cried in between tears, distraught.
My mother kissed my forehead and mumbled "I know".
It was then I realised, my mother and I lived similar lives, but we handled things differently. I knew her mental health was permanently damaged, no amount of recovery and pills could've changed that. She gave herself to pills but she somehow still had time to hold me tight. My mother was absent but for once she was there, and I was in her arms.
When my crying began to quieten down, I mumbled in a shaky voice,
"Everything hurts".
I sniffed and used index finger to wipe away mascara.
"Trust me, I know" my mother replied, as she held my hand and faced the opposite wall.
I noticed how young my mother was, she was never supposed to have wrinkles at her age but she was so, so tired. She seemed fragile in every way, her arms seemed slender and frail, she hadn't been eating.
"What did you want to be when you were younger?" I whispered, as I felt the tears dry on my cheek.
"I fell in love with nursing. I wanted to-"
My mother was cut off by the entrance of a very drunk father.
"What the fuck are you two doing"?
My father was tall, he reeked of beer and could hardly stand up right.
"Get out Jasmine" my father ordered.
My mother began to slowly stand up, nervously.
"Kaz-" my mother pleaded with fear.
"Get out Jasmine" he demanded, louder.
My mother hastily walked out, leaving me and my father alone.
"You look like a mess. Sergio won't buy any of this shit if you don't get your fucking act together"! My father whispered yelled, getting angrier by the minute.
I saw myself in the mirror reflection, ran down mascara and red, puffy eyes.
"Why don't you convince Sergio then?" I yelled in the heat of the moment. My eyes slowly widened as I came to realisation of what I had just said.
"What did you say" he whispered, his eyes shooting daggers.
I took a few steps backwards, but was too late as my father slapped me on my right cheek, resulting in numbness in my lip and cheek. It stung, and my cheek was red and burning.
"Don't talk back" he said flatly, as he walked out of the bathroom.
I began to wipe away the mascara with my shaky hand, as my lip trembled. My eyes appeared blood shot and I nervously reapplied my mascara, as well as concealer. I was stuck, and had no way out.