Something softly brushed over my tangled locks, jarring me awake. I tried to bolt up upright, but a hand on my shoulder pressed me back down.
"Shh," shushed a woman's soft voice. Its familiarity had me sinking into the bed again but also set me on edge at the same time, waiting for the gentle caress to shift into a harsh grip.
The hand disappeared and another brush followed over my head. Her hand smoothed my unruly and unwashed hair down against my head, pressing it down into the damp pillow underneath. The tears I cried myself to sleep with wet it.
Opening my eyes, well, managing to open one eye while struggling with the other that was swollen shut from the hit it had taken, I found the source of the voice and the touch that was a hint too harsh in its attempts to soothe. Mom. She shot me a tight and familiar smile that held the same apologetic edge as the eyes looking down at me. They also held a glassy sheen that was even more familiar than the empathy they were expressing.
It didn't take long for the scent of liquor to burn through the congestion in my nose and place where the rare moment of care had come from. A bottle.
Still, she hadn't looked at me with the haze of motherly love since I was a child. Before I grew to inherit the youth that she was gradually losing.
Now, age didn't line her features with the deep groves that had carved away her outer beauty to reveal her rotten core over the years. Soft lines marked the corners of her eyes, a softness that would eventually harden with a bitterness that would erase any memories of the love they once momentarily reflected.
Or maybe it was always there and I was just too blinded by the need to be loved to see it. Well, until the need shrivelled up and died. It took a while with moments like this manipulating me into thinking that she cared, even if it was just a little.
But as I eventually learned, she didn't.
Her hand moved to brush a thumb under my eye, the touch triggered pain that made me wince. Still, I didn't pull away from the rare caress. I turned towards it, savouring it while it lasted.
The gentle smile that had been on her lips disappeared as they lowered into a frown that had me tensing. "You should have been careful, Greysi, you know how he gets," she lectured. It was hard to focus on her words when I was watching her lips lose all trace of their natural red tint as they dried and began to crack.
I pulled my eyes away, shifting my focus back to her words.
'You know how he gets.'
Yeah, I did know. That was why the fist that had found my eye after my mistake had been discovered was so surprising. Dad had never punched me before. The worst I had gotten up until then was a backhand.
This was different. Unexpected. Terrifying.
"You know better. He loves you, but that doesn't mean he won't get angry when you do something wrong-"
"But it was an accident-" I began to protest.
Eyes that had grown hauntingly lifeless narrowed to silence me. My brows furrowed as I took them in. They were so glazed over and unfocused that I wasn't sure if she could see me despite looking right at me.
