Down The Train Tracks *Jason McCann*

Down The Train Tracks. ~Ch.1 ["I'm going to die in this person's arms."]

“I’m leaving for a while,” I said quietly to my Mother, peeking my head through the opened living room door. She had a wet cloth on her head and the TV on with the volume down low.

Hangover, no doubt. I thought.

She put her hand up in response, not speaking a word, not even looking back. Just a wave of a hand.

That’s the most communication I’ll have with her today.  I thought to myself and walked out into the hallway.

I picked up my iPod and house key, not bothering with my phone for the first time ever. I usually always take my phone everywhere, but today I just don’t care. I don’t want people to be able to track me down within the push of a button. Not my Mom, not my friends, not today.Today I just want to be left alone to do whatever I want, go where ever I want…

Not that there’s much places to go, but I just want to escape for a while, escape from cruel reality.

And escape from reality is exactly what I do, putting my earphones in, having the volume on full blast. Music is my only escape.

Once in a while, I act like a child to feel like a kid again. The lyrics spun in my head. It feels like a prison in the body I'm living in. 

As I walked out of the door and down the driveway, I found myself remembering last night.

***

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry!” I yelled at my Mother for the first time in a long time.

“Sorry isn’t good enough Melody-Krystal! Just get in!” She yelled as she unlocked the front door of our house. Our house was all it was. Just a house. Nothing special. It was the place where I had lived for the past four years, but it’s not my home. “You’re just lucky I’m not hitting you for this.”

I rolled my eyes in response to what she had just said. “Okay, mother.” I put emphasis on the word ‘mother’.

“What was that supposed to mean?” We were in the kitchen at this stage, facing each other from across the room.

“Oh, I don’t know,” I said sarcastically, and what I was about to say next, was what I have said in my head about a thousand times over and over, the ‘speech’ I had been preparing to give to my so-called Mother, but never built up the courage to.

But, now it was all going to come out within five minutes. Something that took months of debating over and going through millions of times in my mind was now all coming out of my mouth beyond my control, all in less than five minutes.

“Maybe I’m just pretty sick of living with you and all of your bullshit grief. It’s not my fault Dad died, Mom. So why are you taking it out on me? Not that I can even call you my mother anymore, because as far as I know, no mother would purposely cause their child any type of pain. I thought Mothers were supposed to protect their children from any pain that may come their way. Of course, they all know that they can’t possibly protect them from all pain, but they try damn hard to. Their only wish is for their children to have the best life possible. And when their child is in pain, they’re supposed to be there for them, because they’re their baby and that’s what mother’s do. But oh no, not mine. Mine just hits her child when she feels like it and blames her for everything! For her father’s death, for her mother’s newly discovered depression and alcohol addiction, for moving and abandoning what little family they had left. For everything, because my mother hates me because everything is my fault. Everything is always my fault, and you hate that. You hate everything about me; you can’t even look at me anymore. So instead, you just hit me and cause me more pain than I’m already feeling. I’m already punishing myself Mom; I don’t need you to punish me too!”