Cheryl's POV
I was on cloud nine. Nothing could touch us. I never thought it was possible to feel this way, all soft and gooey,
feeling butterflies in me stomach and sh!t. So why did you have to shatter me bliss like that? Don't you want us to be
happy?
"I'm not seeing a counsellor, mam! Jesus!" I raised me hands in the air. 'What the *Duck* is wrong with you', I
thought.
"Watch your tone, Cheryl." Her words were like ice. It suited her. She was always cold. Why did she have to be like
this? I looked away miserably, tapping me boot with irritation on the tiled floor.
Her eyes were dark, a bottomless pit of anger. "I don't know what to do with you, Cheryl. Starting fights. What's
next? Are you on drugs?"
My foot stopped violating the floor and I stared up at her in disbelief and I laughed at the madness of it all. "I'm not
doing drugs mam!"
"And you didn't get into a fight either. What will people think, Cheryl?" People. Always the god damned 'PEOPLE'. It
was pointless trying to reason with her.
"I will schedule an appointment with Dr. WhitField for tomorrow. I will not have this behaviour from you. It is
unacceptable."
"Can I go now?" I said coldly, trying to match her icy tone.
"No." That's when I saw the cup. You've got to be *Ducking* kidding us. This was so outrageous. I glared at the cup
and then at her.
"Are you serious?" She just looked at us. No emotion. Just cold.
"I'm not taking drugs, mam!" I yelled out again in frustration.
"If that's true, there won't be any problems. Will there?"
I rubbed me forehead in frustration and looked at her defiantly, "Fine. I'll do the damn test. I'll wee in a cup for you --
Do you want us to roll over for you as well?"
She said nothing. It didn't take long, but it was still degrading. She wouldn't let us 'go' alone. She watched us like a
hawk the whole time. What did she expect to see -- where I hide me stash of 'clean wee' just for occasions like this?
"Can I go now?"
She was hesitant, as if she was thinking up some more shameful task for us to perform for her. It wouldn't surprise us.
"You may go to your room." That was all she said. If she wanted to say anything else, I didn't wait around to hear it.
Always so much tension, I hated it.
--------------------------------
My eyes were slits. The light outside was already fading. When did I fall asleep? I let out a sigh as I lay back on me
bed, staring at the ceiling. 'This is *Ducking* ridiculous' I said to meself. I heard a rumble near me door and Simon
peered in.
"Where have you been hiding? Thanks for having me back, by the way," I said. I always found it odd that we got along
so well and that I could talk to him the way I did. It was like we were related and mAm was the odd one out; the 'evil
step-mother', the 'ice queen'.
Hmph.
He just looked at us with sad puppy eyes. "So you heard it all?" he nodded sympathetically as he came over to sit on
me bed and gave us a pat on me boot.
"She's crazy, Simon -- Drugs?!"
"She's just concerned, pet--"
"She's a prison warden, that's what she is." I mumbled under me breath.
"She's your mother. She worries about you--" I cut him off quickly.
"Come on Simon. Get real. You know why she's like this. And the only thing she 'worries' about is what other people
think of 'her'. She doesn't care about me feelings." He frowned at us.
"Drugs, Simon? Seriously! She made us wee in a cup while she watched!"
He rubbed me foot again. He knew this was as fucked up as I did, but he'd never say it. I groaned, "So I guess I'm
stuck in here for a while. House arrest. Did she send you to hand-cuff us to me bed and take away me shoe laces?"
He chuckled at that but his eyes were still sad. I didn't like seeing him like this. Maybe I should try to be more
hospitable, even if it's just for his sake...
"It will all work out, Cheryl." He said finally. "Things have a way of working themselves out..."
Sure, sure. This was going to be hell, I thought to myself.
