Pack yourself a toothbrush, dear

chapter three

"Janet, Eleanor's mother-" I cringe at her name. If my life was a J K Rowling series, she would definitely be the one who shall not be named.  If you took away her stub of a nose away, she would definitely resemble Voldemort. With a wig, obviously, a blonde shiny wig. 

She's just one of those people who any sane person is supposed to inherently hate. Entitled, bitchy and the kind of posh that makes you want to dissolve into a puddle of sludge rather than hear one of her ongoing rants about how a certain Mrs. Thomas held her steak knife wrong at the charity dinner. 

If I had an Euro for every time she would roll her eyes at one of my trackies and say, "honey, let the poor be tacky. You can certainly afford better.", I would have enough money to buy every poverty stricken fellow, a house. And Clothes from Gucci. 

If I was Icarus, she was the bloody sun. Always restricting me to a saturated point, mocking me, intimidating me. I wouldn't be surprised if she ends up killing me somehow. She'll probably blame it on my outfit or on the fact how my shaggy hair was hurting her eyes. 

"Janet, she's a lawyer-the biggest in Donny actually. Well she is being sued by this company after losing their case and she's been going through a tough  time, financially. And like, If Eleanor gets married, Janet gets three million from her late husband's trust fund. It's kind of a desperate situation at hand, currently." I speak "Eleanor, of course, doesn't know that and would have never agreed on that but I mean, it's great to help out in which ever way possible since Janet has helped my family out a lot. Since-"

 Every memory is etched on my mind like a scratch on a record. You could  probably call it a typical abusive household story. My father wasn't ready to be a father, they conceived me when they had just started going to college. Father wanted mum to get rid of the baby but of course, mum would never agree to that. She told him he was more than welcome to leave if he didn't want to be a part of it but she was not going to let anything happen to her child as long as she lived. My father was a bastard but he was a bastard as loyal as dog on its master's knees, so he stayed. 

He stayed and they got married by a pretty little creek just south of Donny. He worked his ass off, moving boxes for a shipment company, while mum stayed at home and took her college classes online. They lived in Nan's basement but Father always payed rent, even if he had to thrust the money forcefully into Nan's purse. They were seemingly okay but Father hated every second of it. He was an nineteen year old boy after all, all he wanted to do was to play poker and smoke up with his friends. 

But he had to work fourteen hours a day, five days a week, breaking his back while carrying heavy boxes. All for a fucking fetus, that he didn't even want.  Neither were mum and father in love, they just made a lot of bad decisions together. And then, I was born followed soon by my sister Lottie. Father got furious when he came to know mum was pregnant again. Everything was okay before Lottie was born. They were planning to move out to Cheshire and rent a small flat and Mum was going to join a hospital and father had a friend out there with a rental shop. 

But then, mum was pregnant again and everything went haywire. Father would come home bathed in beer. He would scream and grab mum's hair if she told him to take a shower before bed. Then he would break pictures and vases, followed by hell lot of furniture kicking. He would thrash me and Lottie if we got a grade less than an A in class. Our house was constantly filled with anxiety waiting for him to come home from work, not knowing what mood he would be in. 

Mum was a brave lady, she would always step up. Whenever he even looked at us angrily, mum would shout. Mum wasn't scared of being thrashed or being screamed at, but she was scared of being abandoned. She had always been looked after and cared for and she was scared of being alone with two kids, she didn't trust herself enough. So she stayed with father and got beaten up and cuddled us at night and told us that god gave us bad times, so we could appreciate the good times more.