Dangerous Curves

Chapter 1

Susan's POV

I am no counselor in family relationships whatsoever but this is seriously not how you treat your daughter after a long night of work.

'Susannnnn!!'

I groaned and rolled to the other side of the bed and buried my face in my sheets.

'Susan! Get your butt here, you pig!'

Yes- this is how my mother calls me.

Most of the time.

I came home around 2 am today after a long 8 hours' shift. My body was wrecked as I had been on my feet the whole day. I peeked at my nightstand to see it was 8:25am. Why on earth wouldn't she let me sleep till late on a Saturday morning?

'Susannnnnn!'

My brother doesn't get off the bed until midday during weekends and she doesn't have any problem with it, then why me? I snatched the blanket on top of me and threw it flying to the side and got off the bed. I grabbed the doorknob and I slammed open the door and got off the stairs quickest I could ignoring the stiffness in my body. Rage was bolting in me. No, I was not going to stay swallow my words today. I have decided that I would not let anybody ill treat me now. I stomped into the kitchen, crossed my arms and faced my mother. Bring it on.

"Why are you still in bed at this hour?" she asked without sparing me a glance. She had a few magazines opened in front of her.

'For your information dear mother, I had classes yesterday and I went straight to work after that. I didn't get home until it was 2 this morning.' I answered back.

'Ok. Now that you're already up, you can nap later.' Still not looking at me.

'Why did you wake me up?' My voice sharp, giving out my impatience.

'You need to clean up the house. It's weekend.' She replied, finally looking at me.

Of course, weekends meant me rubbing out the house. I was like a full time maid on weekends. I had to clean, prepare lunch and dinner-after fucking then i could take care of my things.

'Why don't you go wake up your son for once?" I spat.

'Is that the tone you are going to use with-'

She scrunches her brows at me and I know she is not liking this, but I am too done with her double standards to give any damn today. Besides, I was never the girl who could keep my mouth shut for long. I threw sass around like confetti.

Until I changed school. Well sass around myself, because I got only my own company! But I still threw sass! In my head!

'-what do you want?' I press lips together and wait for her reply, tapping my right foot for some extra effect. Too dramatic? Hell no. Too pissed.

I see her face burning with rage, her lips pursed in a thin line slightly twitching.

"There are people coming over and look at the state of the house. The sofas need vacuuming, the kitchen needs a good scrub. And we need to prepare some snacks before they get here."
I know who those 'people' are. They are those loud women who have spent their entire life gossiping.

Her face softens a bit, and she looks at me expectantly. I like to think that maybe she has noticed my dark circles and how worn out I look these days, or maybe she finally noticed that my belly has flattened out a bit-but deep inside I know she doesn't care about me, she's only doing this so she can get her work done. She has been a terrible mother to me. Her center of attention has always been my brother.

I remember how school was for me when I was 7 year old. My anxiety from not having friends made me throw up every morning before school. She slapped me when I was crying and forced me to go to school. Only my father took time to feed me breakfast and drop me to school. On the way he'd tell me that I will be having friends soon, and this nightmare will be over. His words made me feel better, or I guess it was his voice. The soothing and promising voice of a loving father. Only he did genuinely care about me. As a kid my mother reacted to my fits with harsh words and brutality. She'd slap me when I pouted, or worse if I chose not to heed, she'll pull me by my hair and lock me in my room.

'So you want me to clean the house and cook for you so you can entertain your friends? It's not happening today. I'm tired of being the house's maid. Besides I have better things to do than to groom a house for a bunch of people who do nothing but gossip around.'

'What did you just say? You fat pig how dare you talk to me like this?'

Pig? Wow. Does that make her mama pig?

I draw some steps back when I see her getting off the stool and bolting towards me. My alarms go off! She's going to hit me. Again.

'Don't you fucking dare get your hands on me again.' I shouted at her, my face burning from disgust and shame. My tears starting to blur my vision. I take a few steps back as she stops mid way.

This is not the first time she has tried abusing me. The last time she did, her nails had left marks on my cheek. I remember walking through the hallway and feeling everyone's eyes on me. Though I was used to everyone staring at me when I was being bullied, but walking with a bruise on your face with the invisible tag 'Abused' was a whole new level.

I sped to my room, showered and rushed out of the house with my study materials, feeling relieved we will not be seeing each other until tomorrow.My mother kept cursing the whole time. She's always mentioned that she will throw me out of the house someday. Sometimes I want to quit this hell of a 'home' but then I cannot afford living of my own right now.

I open the front door and walk towards the only place which can bring me peace.

************************************************************

I sat down on the crispy grass beneath me and tossed my backpack next to me. The trees above me were skyscraper tall. The peace of the morning was soul soothing, and the smell of the forest was pulpy. This was my go to place when I needed to shut the world out. It has been my anchor ever since my dad passed away. I had been closer to him rather than my mother. I had no enthusiasm left for anything after he left. In all honesty, I had always been Daddy's girl, my mother and I have never been the coolest mother-daughter duo.

I take my books out of my backpack while stuffing my mouth with a cheese and ham sandwich. I move to take refuge under an enormous tree while having a bite of my ham sandwich I just bought, thinking I had to catch up a lot on my studies.

Every now and then I would get distracted by the sound of creaking branches and birds singing. But those were the sounds that made me feel calm. I would throw a few sandwich pieces here and there for the birds to feed on. I felt content whenever I gave food to an animal. You see I am the type of person who would give up my meal to feed a puppy.