It's A Long Ride Home, I'm Afraid. {Camren} ✔️

~{38}~

A/N: last flashback chapter of this book :,)

And yes, I know I have a really bad habit of sticking these chapters in when all the serious shit is going down in the main storyline 😭 I apologize.

oh, and trigger warning for abuse.

~

"Why do you always insist on making a fit? Get your ass away from me!"

I didn't understand what my mother really meant, but the loud tone of her voice alone was enough to make me cower away.

"But mama," five year old me spoke softly. "Look, I drew you a picture!"

"It's got daddy, our house—and look! I even drew Taytay and Chris!"

"What is it that you can't seem to comprehend about the words leave me alone?" Clara snapped at me. "I'm busy, if you can't fucking tell!"

I wondered why she was being so mean to me, but I decided not to question it.

Instead, I figured I should answer with something else.

"Fucking bitch." I replied in my little baby voice, and from my knowledge those were two very insulting words since that's what my mother would call me all the time.

Let's just say she taught me well.

My mother immediately glared towards me, and set down the iron she had been using to iron a handful of clothes.

"What the fuck did you just say?"

I folded my arms and turned away, pouting to emphasize that I was rebelling.

Clara wasn't having it at all, however, and grabbed my arm fervently. I yelped as she yanked me towards her.

It was times like these that my father just happened to not be at home. He was always working, of course, because someone needed to be providing for the family.

"Mommy, stop! You're hurting me!"

She didn't listen. Her blank stare was more frightening than the one of anger she had just worn only moments ago.

"Please stop!" I yelled again. "It hurts, mommy! My arm hurts!"

It was like talking to a wall. A literal brick wall. When my mother got like this, she threw all reasoning out the door.

She was in her own separate world now. Faraway from here. A scary place that ran distant from reality.

There was no point in fighting back as she began to pull my little pants down, leaving my lower region exposed.

I expected to be spanked or something, since that was the usual. Or maybe a beating by the belt. Maybe the chancla, perhaps.

But I can't stress enough the look of confusion that came across my face when I saw my mother reaching for the iron.

The first thought that came across my mind was that I was maybe getting off the hook, simply because I would've never expected what happened next.