Crybaby Redux

Sippy Cup Pt. 2

It'd only taken three days for Crybaby to stop believing her mom when she said her dad was on a work trip, and another three days after that for her brother to pack his bags and leave. Crybaby sat on the floor in front of the front door sobbing for hours until her mom finally came downstairs, drinking from her flask.
Crybaby turned to her, seeking guidance from her even though she had the strangest feeling that she couldn't trust her. "Mommy, why did they leave us behind?"
Her mom scoffed, barely pulling the flask away from her lips as she uttered her idea of wisdom. "Because they're men. They'll always find someone skinnier or prettier than you to run to. It'll happen to you again soon enough."
She didn't know what those words meant, but they burrowed a spot in her brain nonetheless.
They leached their way into her brain long after she'd fallen asleep. They came to her in her dreams, reformatting themselves to make sense in her innocent little mind.
In her dreams her mother came to her and told her what she now believed to be fact. She sobbed as the words came out, "Daddy wouldn't have left if you were prettier. Your brother will come back if you stop being such a fucking crybaby."

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Stella sat, well, more like sprawled out on the couch, nearly hanging off it entirely. She was drunk. She was always drunk. That's why he fucking cheated on her in the first place. Or maybe she drank because she always knew deep down that he was unfaithful, she couldn't even remember anymore. Either way, she hated him for it. She fluctuated in and out believing her own lie. At one point she'd curse him for leaving and sticking her with their idiot of a daughter; then she'd remember what she had done, and she was the reason their daughter was now fatherless. Of course that little glimpse of the truth was rapidly fleeting with every swig of whatever she'd put in this flask. She couldn't really remember what it was, but it was working. Eventually, her words of advice to Crybaby came back to her, as well as the fabricated story she'd told that girls mom. She confronted him, and he stormed off to live with his newer, prettier girlfriend. A girl that hadn't gotten fat and lazy after having two kids. Slowly, she managed to get up and walk up the stairs. She was going to the bathroom to down the first pill she saw before she passed by Crybaby's room. The door was open and the gentle sound of a fan leaked out. She stumbled into the room and stood a few feet from the bed, drunkenly swaying as she kept her eyes locked on her daughter. She couldn't tell if she loved her or hated her but she was leaning towards hate. Her husband wouldn't have left her if she never existed. She would still be skinny and beautiful if she never got pregnant with her. She had half a mind to ship her off to a boarding school and forget about her until a sound broke the white noise and pierced her ears. It was coming from her daughter. She was whimpering; not whimpering, crying. Even in her sleep, she never stops.
She rolled her eyes and muttered to herself as she left the room.
"Fucking crybaby."