WRITERS BLOCK

Stick says: The day her mother slapped her face.

I was late. School let out on time, like always. But of course, I had to be late. On today of all days, why did I have to be late? Daddy wouldn't care. He doesn't care about anything. Not if I'm at church. Not if mom has been gone for three days. Not if he drank the entire bottle.

No.

He wouldn't care.

But she will.

Mother always wanted to know where I've been and who with. When she was home, and that wasn't often, she was a Nazi. And this morning she just got back from being gone a week... She isn't usually gone that long in a row. And she was not pleased.

And she won't be pleased when I walk through the door right now. I'm 20 minutes late, but that's because I missed the bus and had to run home. It's not particularly my fault. But she won't see it that way.

I step through the door.

"Chelsea? Is that you?" My mother calls from somewhere deep inside the house. Oh no, she is not happy.

"Yup." I say and then flinch.

"YOU WILL NOT BE LATE AGAIN DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?"

" Yes mother. "

She walks around the corner in her bathrobe. She has curlers in her hair and a cigarette in her mouth. Her red lipstick leaves a rim around it.

"Don't you give me that attitude, missy. Come here."

I obey, slowly. Too slowly for her because when I reach arm length she slaps me.

"I'm sorry honey but this is the way it is." She says, sounding exhausted.

I walk back to my room, counting down the days to graduation.