maddox

chapter 3

when I got home, as suspected, my mother was home, her silver kia in the garage my indicator. I parked my bike out front and walked across the lawn to the front door. my neighbor, Mrs. Walker, was out watering her flowers. I caught her staring at me, shaking her head.

"good morning, Mrs. Walker!" I waved. her eyes went wide as if I had said something obscure and she looked away quickly. I shrugged, opening my front door.

"Maddox," my mother's voice greeted me from the kitchen. of course, she was probably cooking a meal for gary - her boyfriend.

"mother," I nodded, ignoring her and walking up the stairs.

"the school called," she shouted after me. I walked into the bathroom and closed the door. my mother and I had a complicated relationship. while most kids - especially girls - got along with their moms, I didn't. we fought constantly. she tried to confront me about my anger, but I just ignored her. while I probably should have talked it out with her, I was livid. she had left me when I needed her most.

when I was seven, my dad left us. which was a good thing for both of us. he was both physically and emotionally abusive. however, my mother was still in love with him. that's how abusive relationships work, both partners claim - and think - they love each other. that's why it's so hard to leave. so when my dad left, my mom was a wreck. she locked herself in her room for months on end. I had to take care of myself and my mother. for a seven-year-old, that's a lot. I was doing laundry, cleaning the house, doing yard work, cooking meals, babysitting my mother, and attending school.

I had never really gotten over that, even though my mother had. she had totally forgotten about it and moved on. she never apologized or even tried to make it right. instead, she met gary and spent all of her time with him. she was happy, probably just because he didn't hit her. gary was an asshole too. my mother had terrible taste in men.

I opened the mirror cabinet and pulled out our first aid kit. water sped out of the faucet as I turned it on, wincing as I washed my hands off. I carefully bandaged my, still bleeding, hands and left the bathroom.

the carpet beneath my feet wasn't soft like it once had been. instead, it was hard and padded down by years of walking on. my feet lead me to the end of the hallway and up another set of stairs into the attic.

the attic in my house was actually intended to be a lodge of some sort. its giant window overlooking the front of the house. when I had turned twelve, I bought myself a bunch of paint and supplies and turned it into my art studio. I wasn't very good at painting, but it was an enjoyable past time.

I pulled out my latest painting, a picture of a girl on a couch. her back was turned to the viewer as she looked over the back of the couch. yellow balloons covering her face, red hair cascading over her shoulder. I plugged my phone into my speakers and began playing music. flipping my head upside down, I pulled all of my hair together into a messy bun and began to paint.

the sun had gone down, the moon taking its place, as I finished the last balloon. LANY continued playing. I sat on the ground, facing my art. it wasn't great but it wasn't awful. laying down, I stared at each and every detail of each stroke until my eyes began to drift closed.