The weekend finally rolled around.
But what was there for me to do anyway?
Sitting at the table for breakfast, I was still trapped with my thoughts.
Why can't I talk to my mum?
What did she do to me?
"M-mum..."
The look on her face could've made me burst into tears there and then.
But it didn't.
Why?
Because I was still too focused about making my words come out clear.
Eye contact was inevitable by this point as Mum had a soft but strong hold on my cheeks.
As much as I tried to force more words out, nothing was working...
My eyes met the brown of the table beneath.
She kissed my forehead.
"Baby steps,"
Exactly my thoughts, Mum.
YOU ARE READING
Pistanthrophobia
Romance(n.) fear of trusting others --- (Almost like a letter/diary) 'You helped me get over them, you saved me. Thank you,' When a horrible event occurred in the girl's life, everything changed. She couldn't even look her mother in the eye. That was all u...
