“Home sweet home,” I mutter sarcastically as I step inside. The air feels heavy, like the walls are holding their breath. I glance around. No one’s here yet, but that never lasts long.
I toss my bag into the corner of the living room and drop onto the couch for a few stolen minutes. Just a few. I let my body sink into the cushions, savoring the stillness before I have to move again.
Eventually, I push myself up. I start cleaning, like I always do. Not because it’s messy, it never really is. But because if I don’t, she’ll find something to yell about. A speck of dust, a crooked frame, a streak on the counter. I’ve learned to stay ahead of the storm.
Sweeping up the last bit of dust, I settle down at the kitchen table and get straight into my homework. I flip open my notebook and start scribbling answers, flying through math problems like it’s a race. Not because I care but because I want it done. I don’t want to give her another reason.
Without even realizing it, the day slips by. I pause, setting my pencil down, and let out a long breath. My body aches, my mind dull from going on autopilot. I think about the day, what a disaster it was. But just as I begin to sink into those thoughts, the door slams open and shuts with a violent thud.
I freeze.
The slam of the front door sends a jolt through my spine. I strain my ears. Heavy footsteps follow, each one like a warning shot. She’s home. And I already know she’s not in a good mood.
“Max!” Mom shouts.
“Yes, ma?” I respond cautiously.
“Come and bring me water!” she demands.
“Okey!” I call back, rushing to the kitchen for a glass. I pour it quickly, careful not to spill even a drop.
“Here,” I say softly, handing it to her.
She snatches it out of my hand without a glance, gulps it down in one go, and, just like that, it goes crashing to the floor by my feet. The cup shatters, water splashing across the tiles.
“Clean it and get outta my sight! Now!!” she barks, snapping her fingers like I’m a damn dog.
Why ask for water and waste most of it? Does she hate me that much? I wonder. But I don’t ask. I just mutter a quiet, “Ok,” and obey.
“Useless bitch!” she snarls as she storms away.
I lower my head further and start wiping. I’ve done this enough times. Soaking up the last drop with an old rag, I rise and walk to the sink, wringing it out like I’m wringing out the day.
She sits in her usual chair, quiet for a moment, lost in whatever thoughts she lets herself have. But the second she notices me still standing there, she snaps out of it like she’s waking up angry.
“What?!” she barks. “What are you looking at?!”
“Nothing,” I say quickly, voice low.
“Then get out of my sight!”
Keeping my head down, I back away. Her voice trails after me.
“Pathetic.”
I rush upstairs, barely hearing her last insult echo down the hall. I slam the door shut behind me and see my bed, the only place in the world that doesn’t talk back. No hesitation. I throw myself onto it, flat on my back, arms limp
My stomach growls.
I groan, rubbing it in a weak attempt to soothe the emptiness. “I’m hungry,” I whisper.
But there's no energy to try and find any food. I just lie there, staring at the ceiling. Watching the cracks in the paint. Losing myself in my own head.
“End me,” I mutter quietly, eyes closing.
YOU ARE READING
When The World Turns
Teen Fiction"When the World Turns" follows Max Mei Lin, a girl struggling with bullying at school and abuse at home, she meets Ethan Gomez, a compassionate boy who offers her support and a chance at healing, sparking a connection that could change her life. An...
