"C'mon Fatima it's almost your turn to go up" My mother calls while waltzing into my dressing room messing with my hair.
"But Momma I'm tired" I whine looking up at my mother seeing her grow enraged.
"Don't you think I'm tired, tired of having to raise you, having to pay for you, having to beg the landlord for extensions, and everything else I have to do for you. Now shut up and get ready because you're up next" She says storming out and slamming the door behind her. I sat there with my eyes starting to water thinking about everything my mother just said, it was all true which made my tiredness go away. I felt rejuvenated within a matter of seconds, I looked at myself in the mirror then made my way to the door, meeting my mother on the other side. "Let's go" she spat and lead the way to the hanging sheets separating the backstage and the audience.
"Mother I am sorry for being selfish and not thinking of you," I say while looking down at the ground.
I felt her cold, wrinkly fingers start to pull up my chin so I could look at her "Honey I only do this so that soon we can have everything that we want, okay? Sorry about how I acted I just want better for m-us sweetie, just for us" She smiled devilishly but little did she know all I want is her love.
"Contestant 433, contestant 433" We heard over the speakers.
"Alright, your turn, knock them dead and you BETTER NOT LOSE!" she whisper yelled the last part to me then looked around at the other people and patted my back then walked off to claim her seat in the audience while I walked past those sheets praying not to let my mother down.
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In The Process
Teen FictionFatima has only been with her mother all of her life due to her father walking out on her mother when she was pregnant with her. Her mother, Phoebe holds hatred in her heart for her. She pushes and pushes Fatima and molds her into her little doll th...
