The Vanishing of Brandyn Taylor

Jeopardy

Furious at my mother for what she had done, I couldn't decide if I was going to ignore her for a bit, or storm over there and have it out with her. If I did say anything to her about it she would never admit she was in the wrong, so was there even a point? As far as she was concerned she was always in the right. Because of her Larry could have actually ended up being arrested, and both Rachel and myself had felt threatened for weeks. Anyone who has ever actually been stalked will tell you the uneasy feeling it creates. If anything it was my mothers meddling that was going to cause me to relapse with my mental health, but of course she could never see that. I was trying to prove to her, and myself, that I could live independently; I had been, and managing really well. I didn't need a constant minder. My mother was one of those people who believed all the stigmas surrounding mental health, despite the many times I had tried to educate her about it all. Putting it bluntly, my mother was prejudiced. She wasn't racist or homophobic, but she was most definitely prejudiced against mental health conditions; and don't even get me started on her opinions of medical conditions such as chronic fatigue, fibromyalgia and the like - she didn't believe they were real conditions. The old adage of mother knows best is not always right, far from it.
Rachel often came under fire of my mother's interference as well, but she handled it better than I did, she ignored it mainly. It was bad enough my mum interfered in my life, but even worse when she tried doing it to other people. Some of my friends used to say she only does it because she cares, but that's like saying someone is only rude and condescending because that's them, it's not an excuse. Her meddling had gone too far this time.

When I had lived with my parents, after giving up university, it had made my depression worse, not better. The restraints they put on my life turned me into a recluse. They may have thought they were doing right, but moving out again was the best thing I had ever done. When I lived with them it was easier to just shut myself away in my room. If I tried going out there was a barrage of questions, sometimes my mother even outright said no, thinking a 22 year old woman could be told she wasn't allowed to go out of the house. It became easier to just not even try going out, than face all the arguments. This wasn't just limited to me wanting a night out, it could be something as simple as me just wanting to go for a walk, or see some friends, go shopping. Anything she could find to undermine me she would, it seemed.
I knew I needed some time to cool down, if I went storming over there now it would end up a pretty heated argument. My dad would always take my mums side in anything, even if he she knew she was wrong, so there wasn't much use approaching him to discuss it. Rachel and I were grown women in our thirties, we didn't need constant supervision or observation.
This whole time though, my mother had known Brandyn was missing, and not said a word to me. There had been no asking if there was news on him, no enquiring as to how I was feeling, it was as if she totally ignored it all. It felt so uncaring to me for her to be like that. I was tired of living under her rules, it was high time she realised she couldn't tell me what to do all the time. I decided, after much thought, I would wait until I knew my dad wasn't home, and go and have it out with my mother.

Two days later I knew dad was at work. It was Monday morning, and mum would be home doing laundry. She insisted on only doing laundry on a Monday. Monday was wash day, if you needed something mid-week you were out of luck. I didn't even call ahead to tell her I was coming over. I used my key to let myself in, and sure enough she was in the utility room doing laundry.

"Hi Kiera, what a lovely surprise to see you." She started.

"It won't be so lovely by the time I leave, I can tell you that much." I snapped.

"Why, what have you done this time?"

There she went again, always blaming me, always the accusations and guilt tripping.
"It's not what I've done mum, it's what you've done. You've take it too far this time, you really have, and I've had enough."