Daddy Issues ➳Malia Tate

Chapter 4: Need a Little Help There?

(Ok since it's been a while, cough cough, this part kinda follows the part in the middle of the last chapter where Lauren was remembering when she and her mother were talking about her crush/bf and shit after she was beaten for the D she got IN ENGLISH you dirty minded mfs)

"I really like him." I said.

"That's great!"

"Yeah." I smiled timidly and there was a little pause.

"Well, you have to make sure though that this doesn't interfere with any of the important stuff."

I stood up from my chair and narrowed my eyes at her "You think he's right, don't you?"

"Lauren-"

"You're unbelievable."

"Lauren, I'm just saying that you need to know your priorities. You need to pay extra attention to the more important matters, I'm not saying you lose track of your social life or anything, you just-"

"Oh and why or how exactly are my grades important, huh? Nothing is important. Can't you see that? The only thing that matters, the only thing I think of, the only thing I want, is getting out of this hell hole. But that's not happening. And guess who's fault is that? Yours. You. You did.. no, you're doing this. Why are you even making such a big deal over a mark or a grade even while the biggest mistake is already inside of you, another weakness, another liability, but we just have to to sit there helplessly and act normal about it. Can't you see what you're doing? You're bringing another person, another human being to this, to our, fucked up life, and the funny thing is that you won't even stop. You won't get rid of him. As if he would really want to be here rather than dead. He would hate you, mom.." I paused after my voice broke a little at that.

"He would hate you for this, I would hate him for this. Hell, I already do. Not only that you could never find us a way out of this before but you don't even try to anymore. All because of him. Because you can't afford to hurt him now. Which is ironic really, because hurt is the only feeling he'll be experiencing here but you're just going for it anyways."

I didn't know how or why her facial expression didn't make me stop or retreat. It should have. It would have, if only I hadn't been silent for too long. I didn't know how I wasn't shocked by my own words, because she definitely looked like she was.

"You don't even realise it but you're just like him. Always pointing fingers, always helplessly watching your life crumble down before your eyes and pinning it on anyone, anything, but yourself. You have no right to hate him because you two are just the same."

I definitely over-dramatized the whole thing, that last part in particular, which I knew before getting it out how much it would hurt her, but that was probably what I wanted (also which I apparently had accomplished judging by the astonished disbelieving broken look she had). I don't know why I would, though, when all she has ever done for me since the day I was born screamed "love". I had told her that she was just like him but I'm not so different myself.

I too was always helpess. I too never wanted to take the blame. But unlike them I wouldn't let a couple mistakes turn into dozens especially when I knew I wouldn't be the only one affected by their consequences, I wouldn't lose track of how the now would affect everybody in the long run.

I shook my head and turned unhesitatingly around from her teary wide eyes and towards the stairs, still with barely any guilt in me. Yes, there was surprisingly no guilt, but rather terror. Terror that had me shaking from head to toe. I'd been harsh, too harsh and (verbally) violent that I was almost sure that when I reach my room, instead of a pale thirteen year old, I'd find a slightly-bearded monstrous man with the same green eyes and crease between the eyebrows as mine staring back at me in the mirror.