| highest rank: #214 in short story |
piece by piece, leaf by leaf, and as each season passes me by, I will follow her into tomorrow
cover by the wonderful @eunxia-
Cam and I were fifteen when Mother left. Mother was many things; she was beautiful, warm, cruel, and imperfect. I think we were too young to understand the meaning behind actions. When Mother hit me, I figured it was alright. I thought I was getting disciplined for being bad. That was when I was young, though. I didn't understand.
As soon as Cam and I hit puberty in sixth grade, Father had always said we were going to bloom earlier than everyone else; we got big. We towered over everyone in our little town of Bridgeport in Vermont. We weren't scrawny either; we were already muscled and vigorous. That meant Mother couldn't hit me anymore. Not when I could hit back much, much harder.
Mother had always been intelligent and eloquent. She used that as her weapon after she couldn't hurt me physically anymore. I remember crying to Cam when I did something wrong. Maybe I did deserve it, the abuse I mean.
Sometimes I think Mother was just trying to help, but her words still burned into my mind and tore at my heart. Honestly, though, I know Mother blamed me for her. I think Mother blamed me for Dad too. She reminded me it was my fault every day until she finally left.
"You're a demon." First insult, age eleven.
"Emerson you are a volatile, worthless mess. When you're eighteen, you are out of my house." Insult, age 12.
"I regret ever giving birth to you." Insult, age 13.
"You are selfish, cruel, and will always be alone. This is why no one will ever love you." Insult, age 14.
"She and Cameron will always be the only ones I love. I wish I would've kept just them instead of pitying you. I will never love someone as worthless as you Emerson." Last insult, age 15.
She left that day. All of her clothes and jewelry were packed neatly away. She had our maid, Gwen, carry them to the taxi. Cam was crying, he loved her, despite her flaws. I couldn't cry. I just felt numb.
I was torn between mourning for a mother I never had and rejoicing over my abuser leaving. Dad didn't care, he had been working in Austraila and their marriage had been loveless since we were young. It didn't matter. All that was left of Mother was the residual smell of her expensive perfume.
Now, even that is gone. It's just Cam and me.
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