Becoming

5| chrysocolla

"the walls weren't thick enough to block out the angry noises of the voices that once soothed her to sleep"

-another empty bottle, katy mcallister

With Daniella and Benedict, I had long since learned that it was easiest not to say anything.

Most of the time, even if their words bit and ate away at me, there would be less damage if I didn't retaliate. If I just stayed silent, forced a smile, and nodded, I would be spared from a follow-up lecture about how my 'attitude was bad', or how I was being 'rude'.

I had heard the same words repeated over and over again, with varying degrees of venom. Despite that, they never stopped hurting. If anything, they hurt more, because they served to drill in the point that they truly believed me to be a failure.

I refused to call Daniella and Benedict my parents, even though to prying relatives I would put on a sweet smile and call them 'mum' and 'dad'. Although they had hurt me, although they hadn't been there for me at my worst, I still loved them. I couldn't find it in me to hate them, not when they had given life to me, raised me, and once upon a time loved me.

It was so weak, so foolish of me, but deep down I believed that someday the people I proudly called 'mum' and 'dad' would come back.

===

"Don't you have any work to do?"

I jumped slightly, turning to face Daniella with a plastered-on smile.

"I've finished everything that I have for today," I said carefully, observing her face for any warning signs. With Daniella, every little thing could trigger a rant. "I'm taking a break."

A disapproving sigh.

"Work doesn't simply extend to schoolwork," Daniella frowned. "How do you expect to push up your dismal grades if you don't do revision and supplementary work? Your measly notes and homework isn't good enough."

"I've already done my revision," I replied, struggling to keep the exasperation out of my voice. It was the same old argument every single day - Daniella would tell me to do revision, I would tell her that I had, and she would either tell me to do more or remind me of my shortcomings. It sounded simple enough, but it got impossibly frustrating after a while. It was like consistently getting a terrible song on shuffle and not being able to change it. "Look, you can see for yourself."

Daniella's face contorted into a scowl, and I flinched. That was a bad sign.

"There's no need to give me cheek," her voice was ice cold. "I'm just trying to look out for you. You've been getting lazy and complacent lately, and God knows your results are so terrible even a beggar could do better. If you want to be rude, fine by me. Your results -and your future- can go down the drain if you so wish. Don't come to me for help when you end up half-dead in some ditch next time."

I gritted my teeth. It wasn't the worst of her insults, but it still hurt. To her, I was just a failure.

"I wish I'd gotten someone else as my child instead," she laughed derisively. "Then I wouldn't be stuck with an ingrate like you. I don't understand why your friends can be such well-mannered, perfect young ladies while you're like a devil child. God, where have I gone wrong?"

I gasped involuntarily, feeling my eyes begin to burn.

"What, you're going to cry just from that?" Daniella sneered mockingly. "Stop being so weak. If you think this is bad, you're going to die within a day when you enter the working world. I'm trying to help you, foolish child. I'm your mother, I know best. Stop acting so wounded, like you're suffering some great injustice. Grow up."