MOMMY ISSUES | Tamber

14

Tara sat hunched on the cold tile floor of the handicap stall, knees drawn up as sobs continued to wrack her slender frame. She flinched violently when the main door banged open.

"Tara? Baby, I know you're in here..." Amber's voice was laced with urgency.

Footsteps echoed through the bathroom until Amber appeared at the stall entrance, her expression a tumult of naked fear and heartbreak. For a long beat, she simply stared at the shuddering girl crumpled below her.

Tara lifted her gaze, eyes swollen and rimmed in red. She opened her mouth, but all that emerged was a ragged, choked-off whimper.

"Why the hell did you tell Sam that I was the bad guy here?" Amber's tone was brittle, torn between aggression and vulnerability.

Tara shrank back against the wall, guarded confusion flickering across her haunted features. "I... didn't. Not exactly," she rasped.

Amber stepped fully inside, hunkering down a few feet in front of Tara. She lifted an abortive hand, letting it fall as Tara flinched anew. "Then what, exactly, gave her the impression that I was abusive? That I would ever intentionally hurt you like... like this?" Amber gestured helplessly at Tara's mutilated forearms, fresh anguish contorting her beautiful features.

"You were angry. So angry at me because I messed up again... and you had every right to be. You gave me so many chances, and I failed you, over and over—" Tara mumbled.

"Tara, listen to me. Being hurt or betrayed in a relationship does NOT give anyone justification to respond with violence. Ever," Amber's voice was sharp, cutting through the fog of Tara's self-blame.

Tara curled further into herself, refusing to meet Amber's intent stare. "But I deserved it... I'm broken and toxic and destructive, just like my shitty DNA—"

"Stop. Just... shut the hell up and stop saying those horrible, untrue things about yourself. God!" Amber scrubbed at her damp eyes, exhaling a juddering breath. She scooted closer until she was right at Tara's side. Tara shrank from her warily.

"What happened the other night... that was unforgivable. Not what you did, but how I reacted. I let my rage and hurt consume me until I became..." Amber trailed off, bile rising at the memory of her unrestrained brutality, the stark terror in Tara's gaze. "...a monster. My actions pushed you to harm yourself, and I will never, ever be able to make amends for that."

Trembling fingers reached out and smoothed back Tara's disheveled hair, the touch achingly tender. "You did not deserve that, baby. Not from me or anyone else. The fault lies entirely with my ugly demons, not yours."

Tara stared up at her, lips trembling as raw adoration warred with the scars still fresh on her psyche. Then her eyes skated past Amber, recalling, "That man... the guy you were with earlier—"

"Was just an old friend from work, nothing more. I'm very much single these days," Amber scoffed, meeting Tara's probing gaze for a heavy moment. Then, impulsively, she shifted forward and took Tara's hand, guiding it up to her lips. She pressed a soft, devastated kiss to the inside of her scarred wrist. "I still love you, Tara. More than life itself. But I can't be with you... not until you love yourself even half as much."

"Amber..." Tara whimpered.

"Shh. I know, darling. I know." Amber coaxed Tara to unfurl, gathering her close and stroking soothing circles on her back as fresh sobs overtook her. Sam's vicious parting words rang silently in the air between them.

-

Sam looked up warily as the lock on the front door disengaged. Tara shouldered inside, expression hollow and drained. Her sleeves hung over her wrists, concealing the fresh bandages beneath.

For a long, strained moment, Sam simply watched her shuffle to the couch and sink onto the worn cushions with a sigh. Then, she asked, "So...?"

Tara didn't turn around, her head dropping into her hands. "It's not how you think, Sammi. She... Amber didn't—"

"Spell it out for me then, 'cause I'm fresh outta theories here. All I saw at the store was my baby sister looking like a hollowed-out shell of herself, destroyed by that toxic, abusive—" Sam's voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"Don't." Tara whipped around, eyes flashing in an uncharacteristic surge of spirit.

Sam reared back, surprised into momentary silence.

"Don't call her those things. Not unless... not unless you wanna call me the same," Tara continued, laughing humorlessly, the sound like shards of glass. "'Cause that's what I was, Sammi. A wreck... an addict and depressive mess who dragged Amber down into the sickness with me. I destroyed what we had, not her."

Shaking her head slowly, she lifted her sleeves. Fresh bandages swathed both forearms all the way to the elbow. She met Sam's stricken look evenly, simmering anguish and self-recrimination in her hollow gaze. "But maybe you're right about one thing—maybe she is poison for me at this point. Because no matter how hard I try, I can't seem to let her go."

She held Sam's gaze for a heartbeat longer, letting her glimpse the well of desolation and ragged devotion warring within. Then she turned away, curling in on herself as sobs shook her slender frame anew.

From behind her, Sam squeezed her eyes shut, her expression twisted in conflicted grief and solidarity. She opened them again with visible effort, squaring her jaw. "Just one thing, T. One condition."

Tara didn't look up, but her crying stilled. Sam approached slowly, lowering herself onto the couch and tentatively wrapping her arms around her broken sister.

"Please... please let me help you find yourself again, before it's too late. Before the Tara I know and love is just... gone forever."

A shuddering breath from Tara, then an infinitesimal nod. Sam exhaled harshly, gathering her close and stroking her hair as a single rogue tear spilled down her own cheek.