When The World Turns

Chapter 11 (Official)

I stepped into the house, letting the door close quietly behind me. Dropping my bag by the entrance, I made sure it wasn’t in the way. The house was still and quiet, I had about two hours before my mom got home. Two hours of silence, nice.

Kicking off my shoes and sliding into my slippers, I headed straight to my room. The walls were bare except for a few peeling stickers from when I was little. I crouched down by my closet and pulled it open, the hinges giving a soft creak. Inside, the same sad line of clothes greeted me. Maybe five to eight outfits in total, all of them old and worn. Some shirts had most of the colors faded, almost washed out to gray.

I grabbed an oversized t-shirt and a pair of thin cotton shorts, tossing them onto the bed. I realized I was still a little damp from the soda incident earlier. Mostly dry by now, but sticky patches clung to my skin, making my clothes uncomfortable to move in. I gotta get outta these..

Grabbing the clean clothes, I made my way to the bathroom. A quick shower sounded like heaven right now.

Entering the bathroom, I shut the door quietly behind me and lock it.

I placed my clean clothes on the closed toilet lid and slowly started undressing, careful with every movement. Even the smallest twist or pull made old aches flare up. I winced as I tugged the fabric over my head, revealing the bruises scattered along my arms and ribs. Some were yellowing, almost healed. Others were fresher, angry shades of purple and blue.

I didn’t let myself look too long. It didn’t matter. It never mattered.

Turning on the water, I waited until it warmed up before stepping under the spray. The water hit my skin in heavy drops, washing away the sticky residue from earlier. I stood there for a while, letting it all rinse off. The soda, the day, the looks, the words. I watched the water swirl down the drain, wishing it could take more with it.

After rinsing off with soap and letting the last of the stickiness disappear, I turn off the water and step out carefully, patting myself dry with my towel. I slid into my clean clothes.

I gathered my dirty clothes into the hamper before heading back downstairs. My bag still sat where I left it, tucked neatly by the door. I scooped it up and made my way into the kitchen, settling at the table with a heavy sigh.

Pulling out my notebooks and textbooks, I checked the damage. Most of it was dry by now. A few corners were still damp, wrinkled and softened by the soda, but it could’ve been worse. There wasn’t enough soda to soak through everything, just enough to annoy me. I brushed it off and got to work, pushing my focus into the homework in front of me.

Halfway through, my stomach grumbles. I set my pencil down and stood up, wandering over to the kitchen counter to make a quick cup of instant noodles. As the water boiled, I leaned against the counter, throwing anxious glances toward the door even though I knew I still had a little time.

Once the noodles were ready, I brought them back to the table. I ate in distracted bites while my other hand scribbled through the math problems. It wasn't exactly the most graceful multitasking, but it kept my mind busy.

Time passed quietly, the clock ticking in the background, until the familiar violent slam of the front door snapped me to attention. I stiffened, my pencil pausing mid word.

Heavy footsteps thudded across the floor, growing louder with every step. I didn’t even need to look up. I already knew it was her.

My mother.

She stomped into the kitchen, her presence weighing down the room with a sour and bitter air.

Her eyes land on me the moment she stepped into the kitchen, and almost immediately, she rolled them in pure, unfiltered annoyance.

My stomach twisted. I dropped my gaze to my homework, pretending to be deeply focused even though my mind had gone completely blank.

"Water," she said, her voice sharp and cold.

I pushed my chair back quickly, grabbing a plastic cup from the cabinet, just in case, and filled it up with cold tap water. My hands trembled slightly as I turned and handed it over to her, careful to avoid any sudden movements.

She snatched it from me, her eyes locking onto mine with a cold stare as she gulped down the entire cup.

I swallowed hard, standing there stiffly, praying silently that this time she wouldn’t throw it.

With a loud slam, she set the empty cup down on the table, making me flinch slightly. She doesn’t say a word, just turns and stomps off toward her room.

Another door slam echoed through the house a second later.

I finally exhaled, the breath shaking out of me in one long and quiet sigh of relief.

Not wanting to push my luck, I quickly shoved all my books and papers into my bag in a messy pile. I slung it over my shoulder and made a quiet, hurried exit from the kitchen, careful not to make any noise that might draw her attention again.

Reaching my room, I eased the door shut with a soft click, holding my breath in until I was safely tucked away inside.

I stood there for a moment, my body shuddering as the tension finally flowed out of me. The silence of my room wrapped around me like a thin, fragile shield, and I clung to it.

But I wasn’t done yet.

I quietly bent down and opened my bag, pulling out the worn folder that held my last assignment. Settling onto the edge of my bed, I worked through it quickly, my hand moving on autopilot. The words blurred a little, but I forced myself to finish, desperate to be done.

Once I completed the final problem, I shoved the papers back into the folder and tossed it into my bag, leaving the bag propped against the door.

Without bothering to do anything else, I crawled into bed, the familiar scent of my pillow grounding me. I lay there, staring up at the ceiling, letting the minutes blur together.

Eventually, the weight of the day dragged me under, and I slipped into sleep.