Lighting Up Your Heart

Expected Consequences pt.2

-(Y/N)'s POV-
           The walk back home seemed to take an eternity. Every step sent a fresh wave of pain through my nose, and my fatigue made the trek all the more challenging. I felt vulnerable and exposed, my battered appearance making me a target for curious and unsavory gazes.
When I finally reached the large and imposing house where I was staying with my relatives, it was dark. The porch light cast a warm glow, the sound of other shallow footsteps was the only company to my weary footsteps. The grandeur of the house, with its towering facade, elegant arches, and the scent of summer flowers, should have filled me with warm familiarity. Instead, I felt small and insignificant, my battered appearance at odds with the elegance surrounding me.
I lingered on the porch, not quite ready to face whatever awaited me inside. The thought of sneaking in unnoticed was quickly dashed by the way my disheveled appearance clung to me like a cloak. I sighed, mustering up the last of my courage, and pushed open the heavy front door.
The interior was as ostentatious as the exterior; a grand foyer opening up into a spacious living room, a sweeping staircase leading up to the second floor, and a hallway that led deeper into the house. The quietness of the house was almost oppressive, the only sound the soft ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
I tried to creep across the foyer, hoping to make it to the stairs without being seen, but my efforts were in vain. A voice cut through the silence like a knife through flesh. "Where have you been?"
           I froze, the sound of my mother's voice sending a chill down my spine. She was standing in the doorway of the living room, her arms crossed over her chest, her face a mask of stern disappointment.
          Her eyes raked over my disheveled appearance, the bruises and scrapes on my face, the bandage across my nose. Her lips pursed into a tight line, anger and disappointment rolling off her in waves.
         "Where. Have. You. Been?" she repeated, her voice hard and cold. I swallowed, feeling like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar. This was going to be bad. "I, uh..." I stuttered, trying to find some sort of explanation that would make my appearance less alarming. But my mind was a blank, the events of the night still a confused and fuzzy mess. My nose throbbed, as if it was mocking me for my pitiful attempt at lying.
         "Spare me the lies," my mother snapped. "You look like you've been in a fight. And you're obviously drunk or high, or both." Her words hit me like a punch to the gut, her harsh judgement and contempt evident in every syllable. "I'm not drunk or high," I protested weakly, my voice wavering. But her cold glare made it clear she didn't believe a word I said.
           "Don't lie to me," she said, her voice dropping to a low, dangerous tone. "You think I don't know what you're doing? I know you've been sneaking out, I know you've been associating with questionable people. You're just like your father. A disappointment."
            Her words stung more than any physical blow ever could. The disappointment and anger in her voice were palpable. "I'm not like him," I protested, my own voice rising in volume, despite the pain in my nose. "I'm nothing like him."
             "Oh really?" my mother replied, her voice dripping with sarcasm, "Then who is it that's sneaking out in the middle of the night, looking like a mess? And don't try to pretend you were just at a friend's house, or studying, or any other excuse. I'm not stupid."
I had no defense, no way to explain away my appearance or my actions. So I stood there, in the large foyer, feeling small and powerless under my mother's wrath. I tried to come up with a response, something that would placate her anger, but my mind was blank, my words caught in my throat.
My mother just shook her head, her disappointment evident in her expression. "I don't know what I did wrong to end up with a daughter like you," she muttered. "You're nothing but a constant source of worry and embarrassment. It's a miracle you haven't gotten yourself killed yet."
Her words were like a slap in the face. They stung, not just because of their cruelty, but because there was a hint of truth in them. I had made some questionable choices lately, I had been sneaking out, I had gotten in a fight. But hearing it from my mother, the coldness and disappointment in her voice, made it all so much worse.
          I hung my head, unable to meet her gaze. The silence between us was heavy, the weight of her disappointment and my guilt pressing down on me like a physical force. I wanted to defend myself, to explain, but I knew it would fall on deaf ears.
          "Go to your room," my mother said, her voice commanding. "We'll talk about this more in the morning. And don't even think about trying to weasel your way out of this. You're grounded, starting now."
            I nodded, my body moving on autopilot, still reeling from the force of my mother's disapproval. I climbed the stairs, each step feeling heavier than the last. My thoughts were a whirlwind of emotion; fear, anger, disappointment, guilt. Each one battling for prominence in my mind.
                                  ~~•~~
               I sat on the edge of my bed, my body heavy with exhaustion and defeat. I had just finished washing up and changing out of my grimy clothes into a fresh change of pajamas. My nose throbbed, the pain now a constant reminder of the night's events.
            I lay down on the bed, staring up at the ceiling, my mind still reeling from the night's events. The confrontation with my mother replayed over and over again in my mind, her harsh words and her cold disappointment seared into my brain. I felt like a child again, small and powerless and desperate for her approval.
             The house around me was quiet, the rest of the family having already retired to bed. I should have been sleeping, too, but my mind was too busy and restless. I tossed and turned, my injured nose making it impossible to find a comfortable position.
            I closed my eyes, trying to quiet the chaos in my mind, but it was no use. Memories and thoughts swirled around, mocking and taunting me with their constant presence. I tried to focus on my breathing, to drown out the noise, but the pain in my nose kept pulling me back to reality.
           I rolled onto my side, wincing as the movement caused a fresh wave of pain. I grabbed a pillow and hugged it tight to my chest, trying to find some comfort in the soft fabric. But it only made me feel more alone, more vulnerable.
              The shadows on the wall seemed to dance and twist, as if they were alive and mocking me. I watched them, not really seeing them, as my thoughts continued to spin out of control. Everything was crashing down around me, my mistakes and my failures, my mother's disappointment and my own self-doubt.
          The clock on my wall ticked loudly, the sound suddenly grating and irritating, each tick like a hammer striking my already pounding headache. I buried my face in the pillow, trying to block out the sound, the light, the reality of my situation.
           Frustration and desperation welled up inside me, a toxic mix of emotions that had nowhere to go except to eat away at me from the inside. I wanted to cry, to scream, to break something, anything to relieve the pressure building up in my chest.
           But I just laid there, still and silent, as the night slowly ticked by. The shadows on the wall became more defined in the dim light, their twisted forms almost becoming living monstrosities, a mirror to the turmoil in my mind. My injured nose throbbed in time with my heartbeat, a constant reminder of my failures and my mistakes.
            I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tense and coiled tight like a spring ready to snap. Sleep seemed out of reach, my mind too chaotic to find any sort of peace or comfort. I was trapped in a prison of my own making, one with no escape except for the endless loop of memories and regrets that played endlessly in my mind.

Author's note
Sorry for not posting in a while😅