Punchline

Chapter 3: Just Keep Moving

Total mess.

Two words that described the total disaster which was my room.

Textbooks; each and everyone thrown all over the once neat bedroom I only pray no pages were ripped out. All of my clothing that were neatly hung in the closet disappeared leaving it empty with only the hangers taking its place. My bed covers were on the floor now only showing the mattress and the blinds on my window were not going to be blinding anytime soon.

I'm pretty sure you get the picture,the lovely scenery once here was no more.

Continuing her mass mayhem she picked up a small snow globe and smashed it to pieces on the floor.

Again keeping my cool I began reaching for a now slightly ruined textbook and putting it away where it belonged. She turned and staggered my way with her stare piercing threw me. Getting closer, I could tell my mother wasn't sober from the reek stench coming from her heavy breath. Finally in front of me she grabbed the book I had ideally rest on the shelf and threw it on the ground awaiting my reaction.

"Are you done." I said rolling my eyes.

This happens all the time. She comes home early one day, trashes the place, and leaves not coming back until she needs something. If I'm not at home I usually try to lock my bedroom door because that's my number one habitat, placed perfectly in a way that makes me feel at peace. Although, there are days where I forget to secure it becoming a huge regret later on. Today was one of those days.

She doesn't respond instead she just stands where she is giving me a mugged face.

I walk away and start cleaning the living room working my way towards the kitchen. It wasn't as bad as the other catastrophes, almost untouched. There were only a few empty cabinets left opened widely, and the tiles were in a desperate need of a mop. Sounds awful, I know, but it could've been worst.

There wasn't a sound coming from my bedroom and I decided to take a quick peek. She was sitting on the floor staring at the huge mirror in front of her.

My mother noticed my presence and faced me with a blank expression which quickly turned to rage.

"Sycamore T-"

"Mother please, do not finish that sentence." I cut in.

One of the things I haven't mentioned was my full name; we'll just have to save that for later. It's not that it's an awful name it's just something I'd prefer not to discuss.

"Where were you!" She shouted so loudly that I hoped she didn't wake my brother who I assumed was sleeping soundly in his room. 

Before I answered I took a seat next to her on the bed and not to my surprise she moved away  in disgust and stood instead. I ignored her very childish act and replied anyways.

"I was out," I simply said.

She looked at me as if I was the most dim-witted person in the world, before she could reply with a response I know would start an argument the front door opened with a slow crack. We both turned our heads towards the bedroom door. It was exactly 12 o' clock, pitch black with not a single car light lit outside, and our front door that I made sure was locked had now opened, you can probably already tell how our reaction might be.

We stayed in silence while hearing foot steps of the intruder coming our way.

"Don't just sit there, go look who it is." My 'oh so sweet' mother kindly suggested. And you wonder why she hasn't received mother of the year award.