One Punch

Well At Least

She figured it out. I wasn't pregnant. And she wasn't willing to get me a real appointment for the fear of domestic violence issues that would surface in the exam. That made it even more hard for me to get my way the rest of the week.

Because I had to go, eventually, to the doctor. I was a whole Sophomore. And that meant I still I shots to get, and a physical, approxiamately two, before I graduated.

I only use such a big time frame because my mom rarely takes me there unless I get a broken bone (never). Sprains and colds are not reasons, and migraines are easily relieved by by me not thinking to hard, in her opinion. At least she commented on my ability to get good grades by telling me I could afford to think less. She didn't think I was a complete stupid person.

She just thought that I was her human punching bag. Mentally, physically.

I could understand the reaction to her situation though. She had to take care of a child that gave not a crap about her and essentially ruined her relationship with the only child she wanted. Totally acceptable and understandable. Nevertheless, I came first. Maybe I got on her nerves and so she hoped my brother could be the saving grace...and as time went on, I guess he was. So she was essentially feeding a leech while she could not give her all to her true child.

I don't even know if we both have the same dad since our features so resemble our mother's. But I know if we did, then our father had nothing to do with her hate for us.

I was thinking this in the middle of my cleaning up the place. Since I had nothing to do, I was definitely here everyday, cleaning up right afterschool. My chores used to be more scattered in their schedule...beforehand. 

I placed the broom on the floor and lightly punched the bordered concrete wall. No one could gear my frustration, that way. But for all trueness, I could no longer come here everyday and 'do' this. Even if it meant upsetting my mother...

I sat on the couch rubbing my chin after my last chore had been done. In all honesty, I hadn't noticed why I haven't thought of it before. What could my mom do to me? I'm already here with her until I can emancipate myself along with the senior proccess. I might as well make her poop her pants now by giving her a hard time...

If I could manage to take the punches she'll throw at me. I squeeze ny pillow close as I attemt to think through the situation. My mind actively decides to stay up, and up, and up. 3 hours later I am still on the bed. 

"Your chores, girl. They aren't finished." I cringe at those words. 

Get up slowly out of my bed and stretch. "Yes, mom?"

'Slap!'

"Why are you sleeping when you have work to do? You know you didn't do the dishes."

I groaned, and she put her hand under my face, wrenching it up to view her. "Don't you sigh. Go do your work."

I look into her eyes and notice the hurt that is there because she thought I disobeyed her. I guess, without knowing, I already started to make that impression on her.