Jem's Mother
Jem, wasted, dangles her pink high heels on her finger tips. A hollow smile on her glittered lips. As she wobbles into her mothers home, Jem trips over her own shaky feet entering the kitchen.
The loud Thud! Is softened by her arms absorbing the impact, but Jem’s scattering hair pins and high heels make up for the hushed noise. The fall nauseates Jem. She wraps her pale noodle arms around her stomach, while cooling her forehead on the marble floor. Painful hiccups along with the foul taste of vomit force her to lift her forehead. Fixing the folds on her short black vomit and beer stained skirt, Jem holds her breath; waiting for the hiccups to subside. She cocks her head. Guiding her, pink-dyed, bang away from sight.
The whole kitchen seems to be two rooms fused at the middle; she blinks rapidly to focus her vision. The alcohol in her system makes reaching for a kitchen table seem impossible. After a dozen failed attempts, Jem finally gets a grip on the table. Wobbly elevating herself, she holds on to the table for balance. Noticing her diary wide open for anyone to see outrages Jem. The fury sobers her up enough to know her rat of a mother snooped through her secrets.
The sound of weeping exposes her mothers whereabouts.
Jem goes to malign her mother.
Staggering to the living room, she thinks to herself. Probably crying over nothing...bitch. Entering the living room, Jem finds her mother bawling. Her hands covering her tear drenched face. Immediately Jem starts the assault, “Fucking bitch! I hate you! Why did you read my Journal?!”
She pauses to leech support from the sofa, “You're so insecure and emotional. Thats probably why dad committed suicide.”
Jem takes a seat across her mother, “ Couldn't deal with all the crying. Whaaa! Whaaa!” Jem burst out on her mother, mocking her. Jem’s mother doesn’t react. She continues to cry. Taking no notice that Jem is even in the room. The wails from her mother got louder and louder. Closing her eyes, Jem ruffles her hair failing to compose herself.
Anger takes over.
“I’m talking to you!” Jem lashes out on her mother, but trips over her feet before causing physical damage. This time her face hits floor. Hard. With malice Jem screams at her mother, tears forming and blood flowing from her nose into her mouth, “Look what you did! I look hideous.” Softly Jem feels her nose, pain shooting through her face. She screams a bloodcurdling scream.
Jem spits blood at her mother.
Jem’s shaky defeated anger is still somehow able to insult her mother, “ You broke my nose! Why don’t you go kill yourself! You useless piece of shit!” Jem’s mother looks at Jem.
No, past Jem.
Jem’s mother stands, and drags her feet to the kitchen; completely ignoring her daughter. “And where do you think you’re going?” Angrily Jem questions her mother, but she doesn’t respond. Crawling after her, The gall that fueled Jem’s fire is begging to fade. She stops at the entrance of the kitchen; the cool floor startles her warm enraged skin. Jem’s mother is at the kitchen table. Probably looking at my journal, again. Jem thought to herself. Using the wall to stand Jem huffs at her mother, “ Go ahead look! I stopped writing in that thing the day dad died. That little girl you want is dead.”
Stumbling to her mothers side, Jem sees that her mother isn’t looking at her diary. But at the obituary of a newspaper. Horror fills Jem’s eyes as blood drips from her nose to the picture of her. The scarlet stained image of herself fills Jem with tremulous fear. The reason her mother can’t hear or even feel her is because Jem dead. The sudden realization is overwhelming. Jem’s knees buckle as she slumps to the floor slowly descending to the kitchen floor. Looking into the stainless steal refrigerator, Jem sees a distorted reflection of herself; face covered with tears and blood. Her brain puts two and two together. She sees a reflection and she’s bleeding and crying and in pain.
Jem isn’t the one who is dead it’s her mother...
