SUGAR

"Alright sugar, whatever you say."

"Mum, you have to feed Leroy!" I yell at her, spinning around on my heel to glare in her direction. She's sitting at the dining table, painting her left hand with bright pink nail polish. Pink. . . Blurgh.

"I do feed him," She responds casually, never glancing up once to give me eye contact.

"A single slice of toast in the morning isn't enough." I reply angrily, teeth gritted tightly together.

How can she be so careless?

"The boy is five years old. If he wants a snack, he knows to go to the fridge Trisha! That new hair of yours isn't the only thing that's changed about you."

Her words hold resentment behind them and I frown, taking off my washing up gloves.

"What is that supposed to mean?" I hit back at her, leaning against the counter.

"Your attitude is disgusting," Mum scoffs, slamming the nail polish down onto the table. She exhales a deep breath before calmly going back to painting her nails.

"Un-frickin-believable." I mutter, grabbing my bag from the table. I shake my head, unable to control the anger bubbling inside of me.

"Where are you going?" Mum yells out of the kitchen door as I storm up the stairs. I ignore her and burst through my bedroom door, grabbing my denim jacket before running down the stairs again.

"You can't leave. I'm going out tonight, I need you to babysit Leroy."

"Screw you Mum!" I scream, slamming the front door shut. I pause for a few moments, feeling the cold wind hit my cheeks harshly. The temperature of the dark night cools me down and I'm grateful for the silence the night has to offer me.

I begin to take a slow walk, heading in the direction I've walked many times before. I know the route like the back of my hand.

I understand Dad is away a lot for business and that's rough on her but I hardly get to see him either and I don't act like a thirteen year old brat. All she cares about is herself and the maternal instinct she's supposed to have simply doesn't exist.

"Idiot," I mutter under my breath, wrapping my denim jacket around me tighter in an effort to stay warm.

*****

"Hey! I'm here!" I yell, closing over the front door softly. I peer around the hallway before glancing up the stairs. Everything remains silent.

"Hello?" I call out, dropping my bag onto the floor by the door.

"Hey Trish."

The living room door opens revealing an exhausted looking Emily. Her dark brown hair is pulled back into a high ponytail and her usual glowing skin is pale and ghostly. She's cradling her baby bump, already protective of her unborn baby.

Emily has been my best friend for years. We met when we were children and haven't separated since. She's been there for me through rough times and never once believed a rumour and judged me for my actions. I love her dearly and having a best friend/sister like her definitely makes life easier. She's currently pregnant with her boyfriend's baby, Jake Melvin. Over the past year, Jake's family have grown into my close friends.

Speaking of Jake . . .

"Where's knuckle head? I haven't seen him for a while." I ask Emily. She lets out a small laugh —