So Far...(Eminem Fanfic)

Chapter 2: Domestic Disturbance

       Brandon and I walked through the neighborhood until we reached a trailer park with a sign reading "8mile Trailer Homes"

      "Home sweet home." I sarcastically made my voice sound cheerful. Brandon giggled beside me and I put my arm around his shoulders and laughed with him.

      We reached our run-down trailer and I opened the squeaky door for my brother. Inside it was quiet. Mom was most likely passed out drunk in her room, like the classic trailer park mom she was.

      We sat down at the two person table in the tiny kitchen area. I took the cans out of my purse and opened a can of sausages for each of us. One can each would be it for us today. I had to make the food last as long as possible.

     As we ate I thought about the boy from the corner market. What was his name? Oh yeah, Marshall. Marshall Mathers. The initials were cool. M&M, like the candy. I couldn't stop the giggle that escaped my lips. Seriously? What the hell was wrong with me? There was no way I could like this guy. I didn't even know him. Yet there was no mistaking the butterflies I felt in my stomach as I thought about those beautiful eyes he had. Wow, I must be insane.

      Brandon had gotten up and gone to bed while I'd been lost in my thoughts. The poor kid took care of himself half of the time. I was grateful Brandon was already asleep when I heard movement coming from the other bedroom. Mom shuffled into the kitchen and peered at me through squinted eyes. Yep, she was definitely drunk. She fucking reeked of alcohol.

      "Hey, Mom." I sighed from my spot at the table.

      "Where is my fucking Ambien?" She was almost shouting. Ugh, why did she have to do this every time we talked?

      "You know Mom, maybe if you didn't take so many drugs then you would actually know where something is." My voice was extremely calm, but honestly I was pretty pissed. I was so fucking tired of her attitude.

      "Fuck you, you little brat. I know you stole my pills. And you better fucking give them to me!"

      "Ma, stop screaming. Brandon is sleeping. I know all that cussing you do makes you feel like a badass, but it's really unnecessary. Also you know that I didn't take shit from you!" I couldn't help that my voice raised several octaves as I spoke. I was just so pissed. Poor Brandon. It scared the shit outta him when Mom and I fought.

     "You need to learn to watch your mouth, you little bitch." She grabbed my hair and yanked. I tried to push her away, but she was amazingly strong for an old, drunk lady. She pulled me to the ground and started kicking me in the stomach. "After everything I've done for you. You're nothing but an ungrateful little slut. And I regret ever having you for a daughter."

      I made no attempt to fight back. I was just so tired of my bullshit life. I was exhausted from years of fighting. "Bitch, you never did anything for me. And I don't know how you can call me a slut. If it wasn't for blowjobs, you'd be unemployed." I choked out when she paused in kicking me. "I fucking hate you."

      Her next words were so simple and yet so cold at the same time. "You're dead to me." She then proceeded to kick me ten times harder. Blood came pouring out of my throat. Was this it for me? I couldn't tell if I was dying or not. I was pretty certain that this time she wouldn't stop until I was. I had finally pushed her over the edge. I didn't really have a problem with the thought of dying. I was so tired of the pain. Not only the physical pain, but the emotional pain that I endured every day. It wasn't like any one would miss me. Wait... My thought process was getting foggy and it was hard to remember. Brandon... My brother would miss me. He couldn't make it without me. I suddenly realized what I had to do. First, I had to get the hell outta there. I could come back for Brandon tomorrow. I knew he wouldn't leave his room out of fear so Mom wouldn't bother him. She wouldn't even remember his existence. After that I would figure out how to fix our lives. Or at least improve them.

      I found the strength to roll over and kick her hard enough that she stumbled backwards. I stood up as quickly as I could manage. I wasn't going to touch her but she wasn't satisfied with the amount of damage she had already done. She stepped towards me to hit me again but I grabbed her arm with one hand and punched her in the face with the other. So much built up anger was released when I hit her. She would definitely wake up with a black eye the next day. It made me feel good, but I wasn't like her. I wasn't violent and abusive. I released my hold of her and got my emotions under control. "Don't ever fucking touch me again or I swear to God I will make you regret it." I tried to make my voice sound as dangerous and threatening as possible. When she didn't charge at me I proceeded to limp out of the trailer with as much speed as I could manage and slam the door behind me.

      I breathed in the cool night air as I stumbled around. I was thankful when I found a bench to lie down on. It had to be about eleven o'clock. I was so tired, and my chest was filled with a sadness that I could no longer handle. I normally had a firm grasp on my emotions, but no one can be strong all of the time. As I lied there, I cried my eyes out for the first time in years. I pushed out some of the pain, fear and the loss that I was feeling. I let the anguish wash over and engulf me until I finally fell asleep.