EMOTIONALLY ENTANGLED

Chapter 04.

CHAPTER 04: a stab in the back

[tw: mentioning of drugs]

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I didn't believe in God.

My family wasn't religious and I wasn't brought into what others believed in. I knew Kelly and her dad used to go to church every Sunday and Owen's family were pretty religious, but it had less of an impact in their lives now.

However, ever since my parents started arguing, I questioned my beliefs because I couldn't quite understand why a fate such as this had landed and corrupted my life. I didn't understand why people who were most deserving of happiness got screwed over by life.

It shouldn't be a big deal. After all, I was in school the majority of the time so their fighting shouldn't impact me, but yet, it did and it did impact me a lot more than I'd like to admit.

I would've preferred to drown myself in all my work: studying, volleyball, art and listening to music. They were the only activities that made life bearable. If only it did, though. I did those things and I'd still feel like life hated me.

I used to like Saturdays. Saturdays used to be my mom and dad's day off work and we'd spend the day together...as a family. We would be happy and go out for picnics, pick flowers in the nearby fields or we'd get ice creams if it was summer and build a snowman family if it was winter.

She never tried to hide how she wasn't happy anymore; she was always truthful, but she'd never expose me to that kind of life. Somehow, I still landed in it and she'd do anything in her power to get me away from it even if she was posing a risk to herself.

But I woke up on that Saturday morning feeling rather nauseous. Maybe it was the continuation of my dread from the night before or the silence that I awoke to. Birds sang their melodies outside, cheerful and hoping for a good day whilst cars drove past. I think I've lost my mind, I thought, sitting up in bed, either that or I'm dead.

The sound of utter silence was foreign to me and it was something that I'd associate with dread rather than calmness. It's too silent and that made me uncomfortable.

I would say my mother is the epitome of happiness, especially when I got downstairs that morning and entered our kitchen. Pancake batter wafted through the air as she hummed to herself a song, most likely one from the eighties that she really likes. That's it, I thought, I've officially gone mad.

"Oh, you're awake. Sit down and help yourself to some pancakes. Pick any toppings you want," she spoke enthusiastically not even sparing a second glance at my wariness.

I should be happy. She's happy so I should be happy. I have to be happy; she can't see me frown.

"Well, come on, tuck in." she joined me at the table with her own plate, placing some pancakes onto her plate and drizzling on some maple syrup, "is something the matter? I hope the pancakes turned out well."

"No, it's not the pancakes, mom," I muttered, suddenly feeling on edge where I was sat. How was I even going to ask her what's going on? I felt awkward enough as it is, "it's just...well, what's going on? You just seem really happy today."

My mother paused, placing her knife and fork on her plate before humming in response, "that is true. I'm not denying it, but I'm telling you now, Brielle. Things can only go up from here. Positivity, okay?"