Aren't you scared of becoming a slave to freedom?
As a 17 year old girl whose mother abused her, Naomi has never known what freedom is, only dreamt of it. But now it's her only constant thought. For her, freedom slowly becomes a drug, something she...
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The kitchen door slams open, revealing a fuming middle aged woman. She looks just like me, except older. We share the same wild afro hair, caramel skin and curvy figure. The only difference is our eyes. She has brown eyes while I got my mysterious father's gray eyes. It seems like my genes got a little bit mixed up when it came to that.
My eyes rake down her body and take in what she's wearing. Today she decided to wear a short black dress that barely covers half her thigh. It irks me to even look at it. My mother thinks that dressing like this will attract rich men to her. I'm not so sure about that.
She stalks towards me, her transparent mask failing to hide her sneer but successfully revealing her venom filled brown eyes.
I’m in trouble, aren't I? I shouldn't have stayed out past 6pm, knowing that i have to make dinner by 6.30. I sigh quietly and choose the best way forward. Pretend that I’m the sweetest girl in the world and that nothing's wrong.
"Hello, mother." I say, while smiling politely behind my own mask. Her brown eyes burn into me as she continues to stomp towards me, closing the distance between us.
"You think this is something to smile about." She sneers, her lip pulling up to reveal her pearly white teeth.
She grabs a fistful of my hair once I'm within arm's reach and pulls down hard. I yelp, cringing at the pain coming from my skull. Regret and fear flow through me as a vision of me with a bald patch crosses my mind. I really regret not braiding it down this morning.
She yanks at my hair harder and leans down close to my ear. "Just because you're almost eighteen, doesn't mean you can slack off." she whispers in my ear. The silent threat of her words causes a sickening rush of goosebumps to glide over my skin.
She lets go of my hair and pushes me down to the ground. I land hard on my behind and look straight ahead of me, every part of me not daring to move an inch. Don't react. Don't react. I repeat these words over and over in my head, trying to keep myself calm.
"Next time I'll just pull a whole clump of it out," she says as she crouches down to my eye level. "Don't forget your place in this house, Naomi. I'm the madam and you're my maid. I only gave birth to you so I could use you. Free labour, you could say."
She stands up and walks back towards the house slamming the door shut as she gets in. I sit on the ground and seethe. Glaring at the door.
My jaw clenches together hard as a tear slides down my left cheek. I quickly wipe it away. I hate this house, I hate how pathetic I feel and I hate how I feel when I'm here even more.
This constant feeling of discomfort and fear is always with me. I'm trying to be brave but it always feels like I'm waiting for her to hurt me. To maybe even kill me.
