Human Canvas :: a.i [slow updates]

Chapter 9

Dedicated to the lovely MontyCarlo_xx (also thanks for your lovely message ilysm)!! It was very hard to choose just one person bc you're all so damn cute and sweet and I just love you all, so I had to use random.org lmaaoo

Thank you to everyone who commented lovely things regarding my mental health, I really appreciate it and your words made me feel better instantly!!! I love you all <3

_____

My first instinct was to yell.

Yell and cry and tell her to go to hell.

But I didn't. Instead, I just smile politely and open the door in a swift movement, trying to mask the angry red present on my cheeks.

"Mother." I say, avoiding a bitter tone, but I can see it in my mom's face that I failed.

I sit in my bed and grab a random book standing in my bedside table to pretend that I'm reading.

She storms inside my room without warning and stomps her foot on the floor, crossing her arms angrily.

"What the hell was that?!" She yells.

I haven't seen her this mad since I was little. I used to make sarcastic and somewhat rude comments around her well prestigious friends and she didn't like that. She'd always smack my head when they weren't looking, so I'd shut up. It wasn't exactly nice, but then again, neither was I.

"What?" I ask, pretending as if I'm completely clueless about the situation. "You completely forgetting about me and leaving me alone this weekend, or the fact that I brought up this being the two hundredth time that something like this happens?"

It's Monday and they just got back from the conference half an hour ago.

They got mad that I didn't attend classes today, but what can I say? I just wasn't feeling like going.

"You know damn well what I'm talking about." She says, walking a few steps and sitting on the foot of the bed. "What happened to you?"

I frown, closing the book in my hands.

"You used to be so sweet and-"

"Oh for Pete's sake, not this again." I interrupt my mother's bullshit of a speech.

She always tries to paint unrealistic pictures of my childhood to hopefully mask her failing at being a mom.

It's annoying and draining and I definitely do not have time for it at the moment.

I sit up straight and lean towards her, taking her warm hand in mine. "First of all, I was never sweet. I was a bitter ass child who hated everyone and had a resting bitch face, which, by the way, hasn't gone away." I say quickly.

My mom's eyes widen and she's about to say something but once again, I interrupt her.

"Secondly, do you know why I haven't grown from all that?" I ask sighing. "Because you and dad didn't give me the chance to." I admit and notice tears forming my mother's bright green eyes.

Her eyebrows touch each other, forming thin prominent lines on her forehead, the only wrinkles her young face can ever show.

"Honey, we did the best we could." She says, penetrating my soul with her manipulative eyes.

"Mom," I start, in a tone of condolence. "You missed six of my birthdays and left me home alone when I was four, leading me to almost set the whole house on fire."

I could go on with reasons why she was wrong about doing the best she could.
Yes, it's true, she tried a bit harder than my dad, who frankly didn't try at all, but she still wouldn't win the best mother award; not even the average mother award.