Save Me

2.) Daughter or Mother?

Before You Begin Reading Dear readers, I sincerely apologise to those of you that enjoyed the first chapter and had to wait this long for a follow up. It was very unprofessional of me to not upload a message as to why you had to wait so long and I am very sorry.

I do enjoy writing and wish to continue this book and my others as I know exactly how I want each story to play out. That said, I sometimes find it difficult to write what I want in a way that will make you take interest in writings. Sometimes, it may take me a while to write a good chapter that I feel is worthy of being read.

For this, I apologise and I hope I will be able to write better and faster in the future.

P.S If anyone has any tips on how to get rid of writer's block, please comment them. Thank you.

Enjoy...

When I arrive from school later that afternoon I am greeted by the stale stench of warm alcohol as I open the door. She's been drinking again I think quietly to myself. What else is new? I try to shuffle past all the letters that scatter the narrow hall and make my way into the living room.

And there she is. Her frail form sprawled over the couch, clutching a bottle of whiskey in her left hand. Her long straggly blonde hair lies matt against her wrinkled forehead. Her dry, chapped lips are parted revealing her unhealthy discoloured teeth. Her blood red lipstick is smeared all over her mouth and her mascara has smudged around her pinched eyes. She is still wearing the same too-short purple sequinned dress that she went out in last night.

Where did it all go wrong?

She wasn't always like this. She used to be a normal mother. She used to tuck me in at night, she used to kiss me before bed, she used to come to all my school talent shows no matter how ridiculous. She used to love me. That was before her. The evil she-devil that destroyed my family. The conniving harlot that bewitched my father and took him from us. Although, many would argue that it takes two to tango.

At this point it is twenty last five and I am almost certain that she hasn't eaten. I decide to prepare a sandwich for her in the hopes that she will have some sort of nutrition today. I put it on a plate and set it on the coffee table across from her. I try to gently shake her awake but she just grumbles something incoherent to me and rolls over.

"Mom, come on wake up." I whisper. She grumbles and turns around to face me. Her eyes are still shut tight but I know she's awake. "Mom, you have to eat something. Get up." She peels her eyes open and I see that they are puffy and red. I gesture to the sandwich on the table. "Eat."

I head back into the kitchen to get her an Advil and some water but when I return, the sandwich sits untouched and she is not there. She's ran upstairs to the solitary of her bedroom.

If she doesn't wanna eat, fine. I won't force her like she's some kind of kid. It's quarter to six and I will have to leave for work soon so I go upstairs to tell her I'll be gone. She mumbles something that I don't understand so I shut the door and get ready for work.

I walk down to the end of my street and wait for the neighbourhood bus to arrive. It's six o' clock when it gets here and I hop on with my head down. It leaves me off a couple blocks from the theatre and I walk briskly to get there in time.

Toby, a guy that I work with, is waiting patiently for me to come and relieve him of his duties. When he sees me he smiles. "Sky, you owe me big time! I've just had to cover for you to Mike." Mike is our boss and is at times very irritating so I automatically feel bad for getting him in trouble. "I'm really sorry Tobe, the bus made a couple detours today." I mutter bitterly. He smiles so I know I'm forgiven and bids me goodbye then leaves.

My shift has been pretty run of the mill... Until now. Until this very moment when he walks in. He's wearing a thin white v-neck t-shirt that hugs every muscle across his chest and abdomen, with black jeans that hang off his hips and a black leather jacket. His hair is as unruly as it was this afternoon and he smirks at me, showing off his perfect gleaming teeth.

"Twice in one day, huh? Anyone would think you were stalking me Skylar." He says with an amused tone to his voice." I pause before answering him with as confidence as I can muster. "Um-I... I sorta work here." I phrase it as a question because I'm so shocked to see him here. I stand staring at him for a good three minutes and am only broken out of my trance when I realise he has asked me a question and is awaiting my response. "Uh... What?" I ask lamely. He smirks in a boyish, wholesome American way. "I said, it's nice to see you. Maybe we should hang out sometime?" I laugh because he's obviously joking. When I've recovered from my laughing fit, I open my eyes to find Zachary staring at me with a most confused look on his face and realise he's not kidding. He actually wants to speak to me. He willingly wants to spend time with me. That's a first! Recovering my sanity, I answer him "Sure... Maybe sometime." I'm guessing he can sense my awkwardness as it is radiating off me in waves. I gave him his ticket and we say goodbye.

When I get home, later that night, the front door is left wide open and my heart sags with the knowledge of what is happening in that red-brick building I call "home". I get inside and lock the door. When I reach the living room, there are syringes and lighters scattered all over the table and the floor. There is white dust arranged in rows on the coffee table. I knew her sobriety wouldn't last long. Making my way into the kitchen, the stench of alcohol becomes more prominent and the evidence of her alcoholic tendencies lays on all the kitchen counters. Bottles of Vodka, Whiskey, Brandy, even a few glasses of the Christmas Gin can be seen. I decide to pour the remainder of the alcohol down the sink as I know no good can come from it. Knowing that all of this will just make me hate her more, I decide to go to my room and isolate myself from the world I have become accustomed to. When I get to the landing, there is a pair of men's shoes lying on the rug. She has a friend over. Honestly, I'm sick of having to look after her day in day out. Sometimes I wish she would act like a mother and treat me like her daughter. When pigs fly...