reverent

six - string of attachment

Five Years Ago

I am being yelled at. Again.

In front of me stands my mom, her face contorted and hair a mess. Every word that spews out of her mouth seem to be in slow motion, spit flailing from her lips from how harsh she's talking. Moreso, her brittle voice is hurting my ears, where they are on the verge of bleeding. Whenever she goes into a fit, the minutes somewhat stop ticking. It's like I'm stuck in some sort of loop.

"Do you know what the hell you've done?! Have you no sense of awareness whatsoever?! Sneaking out in the middle of the night with that god forbid boy--"

She means Kayo. She always means him when she's angry, because for some reason I can't understand, she dislikes him. Usually, we are on better terms as mother and daughter, but lately that has not been the case. We have been fighting a lot and though I push it off as a case of puberty, there is a noticeable trend. Mom insults my best friend at any chance she gets and it leaves me defensive. "Don't call him that," I quip, growing frustrated myself. "He has a name. You know it well."

A seething look shoots my way, nearly causing me to flinch. Nearly. "I will do no such thing. I will show no respect to a kid who's a bad influence on you."

I bristle and my breath go shallow. It's the same argument all over again. We have been through this at least a hundred times by now, like a broken record. She does not listen or try to see my side -- she only wants to see what's in front of her. If she does not witness it with her own pair of eyes, it's not real. "Kayo's not a bad influence!"

"Are you even listening to yourself? You were out in town past midnight last night and you still have the goddamn nerve to say he's not?! You made me worry sick! What if something were to happen to you?!"

"I'm old enough to handle myself," I sneer, gritting my teeth together so hard they hurt my jaw.

She laughs bitterly, pacing around the kitchen endlessly. It's as if there is no threshold to her anger when it comes to me. "You don't know what it's like out there in the real world. How dare you act like you know any better?"

The next sentence slips out from me. Something washes over me, a small voice that wishes harm on other people. It is barely above a whisper, but nonetheless, the whiplash strikes.

"This is why dad left you."

The woman halts in her steps, staring at me with a blank expression. We are both stunned by my words, with my heart pounding heavily in guilt. And though she is successful at hiding the emotions on her face, body language says otherwise. Shoulders tremble and hands fall to her sides limply; It is obvious that I have struck a nerve. The pain she carries is a burden I'm able to take. At least for the past few years, I did. But now, it may reach a boiling point.

In three single strides, she reaches me, and slaps me across the face.

The contact stings me, prickling tears at my eyes. God, does it hurt, and the throbbing continues to linger even after she pulls away. Instinctively, my hands cradle my cheek, shocked that she went this far.

"You ungrateful child." It's unsteady. She sounds unsteady, less sure of herself than usual. She wants to say more, but nothing else comes out and she clamps her mouth shut.

Hurting your own mother is not a good feeling. It doesn't matter that she slapped me. Her reaction hurts more. Overwhelmed all of a sudden, I jump out of my seat and run. Run straight for the door, ignoring the cries behind me. It is what I do best. Run away from my problems.

"[Name]!"

That's the last of it as I close the door on her, racing off into the sunset. Wind blows through my [h/c] strands, whispering insult to add salt to the wound. I know what I did. I know that I should apologize, that I went too far this time, that mom is probably crying in her room right now, that I'm a horrible daughter, that I don't deserve her--