Rainy Days

Chapter 15

***15~Lilli

When I woke up on Sunday, my eyes were puffy and I looked like I'd lost sleep, not gained it. I took my time covering up the bags under my eyes with makeup, then slipped down the stairs, careful not to make a sound.

Once I reached the bottom of the stairs, I froze. At the table sat my mom and a man I didn't know.

"Lilli!" she said perkily, with a large see-through smile on her face. I cringed inwardly, worried at why she'd pretend not to be angry with me. It must've had something to do with our guest.

I glanced at him briefly. He was a business type, with sleek blonde hair cut short and nice clothes. He smiled, and I gave a smile of my own, but even I could tell that it was thin and fake.

My mother stood up, clasping her hands together.

"Lilli, this is Mr. Stevens," she began, and I saw a hard glint come into her eyes. This could only mean trouble.

"You've seemed very... troubled lately, honey, so I decided to call someone in to help you," she said slowly, gauging my reaction. I didn't respond at first, confused. Then I felt my anger from last night return.

"Seriously?" I asked, leaning against the stairwell. "When exactly is 'lately', mom? You don't see me enough to know if I'm troubled. I could be doing drugs, I could've run away months ago and you wouldn't have known it!" I said, unable to stop the scramble of words. Mom recoiled in shock, while the therapist looked slightly aghast.

"You come home once a week, maybe, maybe twice and you think you have a right to tell me how I'm feeling? You don't even have a right to call yourself my mother, much less hire a therapist to deal with me because you're too busy to find out why I'm upset," I concluded, ending with a huff of exhaustion and anguish and running back up to my room. I got a spark of satisfaction from the silence following my slammed door, and from my mother's wounded expression before I had fled. I locked my door and fell onto my bed, burying my face into my pillows and allowing a single sob to escape.

I didn't come out of my room for lunch or for dinner, and the later it got the hungrier I got. At around eight thirty I got a text from Mason asking what I was doing, and I responded "nothing now, sorry I didn't get in touch. was busy."

We continued to talk until ten, when I told him goodnight. I felt myself wishing for a mom like his, but caught myself. There was no use in wanting something that couldn't be mine. I turned off the lamp by my bed and laid down, stifling my crying into my comforter. I supposed it was called a comforter for a reason.

After a while, exhaustion from hunger pains and a different sort of pain stole away at my energy until I fell asleep.