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Chapter 3: Self Preservation

Music: Robert DeLong- Favourite Color is Blue
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Bloody, broken, and pissed off, I made my way back. Tunnel vision had taken over. I had one thing on my mind and I was determined to prevail. My eyes bleeding and blurred from sharp glass tears I've been shedding all day. Cheeks burning and stained with the fury boiling up in my soul. Legs shaky from the shock of impact I just put them through. My chest and lungs ached from my pointless cries not to be left. My entire body was screaming for me to just give in, lay down, curl into fetus position, and let go. To give up. Yet, the pure unforgiving outrage surging through my veins wouldn't allow that.

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"Mom?......Mommy?....Hello?" I slowly opened the porch door. Not hearing a response, I thought, fu*king good. I don't want to be anywhere near that b*tch right at the moment. On my way into the hallway I grabbed an outdoor towel, from the shelf in the mudroom, to wipe up the still endless thin steam trailing down my leg. Entering the kitchen, I threw the towel to the side. Approaching the cabinet, I reached for the Bugles and my dad's Patron. He's been saving it for "a special occasion", guess him leaving me counts. Grabbing both, I swiftly turned to make my way to my room, only to be startled by my mother's presence right behind me.

"My lo..." Mom went to say something, but I cut her off.

"What the f*ck do you want!"

"Celeste! What has gotten into you? What do you have in your hands?! OH MY! Your leg! Oh,  sweetie! What happened?!"

"What's gotten into me? What's gotten into you!!? You tell me as soon as I get home you want to spend time with me, just after two weeks of ignoring the fact of my existent. THEN tell me you don't want me around, that you don't want me home. Just because I ask about Dad's whereabouts. Which CLEARLY you knew because you didn't look fazed at all when he flew out the back door! You knew he was leaving me, and you said fu*king jack shit! What is wrong with you, you psychopathic bipolar b*itch! WHERE THE HELL IS MY MOM!"

"Celeste.... I am your Mom...... My beautiful baby girl, I love you so much! I didn't mean I didn't want you. I only meant for you not to see your Father leave. I'm sorry! Please don't say that about me.... it's not true and hurtful! I'm worried about you, what happened to your leg and hands? Talk to me." Moms expression and eyes held so much pain and sorrow. I could care less though. I didn't want to forgive my mom. At least, not at the moment. I was fragmented. Shattered from so much emotional turmoil. I don't think I can handle dealing with anyone else's issues.

"No...you're not. Not anymore. I don't want you to be. What I have in my hands is my business. You don't have to worry about me, I'm old enough to worry about myself." Tearing up, I turned away from her. It hurt so much hearing her tell me she loved me, that she cared. She hasn't said 'I love you' to me in what feel like forever. I was so upset at her, saying wretched things about her, to her face, and what does she do? Stand there and tells me she loves me and cares about me. Starts to be my mother again.
"I think I'm gonna take that walk you suggested. I'll see you later." I had to go. I needed to leave, to try and patch myself together. As pathetic I know I sounded. I just knew it's what I needed.

"Celeste please. Give me that! You're sixteen. Still a child.  You're not going........." I tuned her out while I walked to the back-porch door. Turning the doorknob and swing the door open, I left.

The bitterness in my heart only grew further sour with every swig of Patron, a handful of Bugles, and the towering trees surrounded me as I walked down the trail. No idea where I was or where I was going, I continued to walk. Not caring at the moment where I ended up. So far, my day has been a mess. So, where I ended up was the least of my worries. A familiar vibration and Kim Possible ringtone took place in my jacket pocket where my phone lived. Taking it out I stared at the screen.
Mom. Again.
This was the sixth time she's called. Pressing send to voicemail, checking the multiple iMessages I've been sent from her, I put my phone back in my pocket. With the intentions of not to be taken out for the rest of the night.