Stained

Chapter 79

After a shower, I feel a little better. Or maybe it's because immediately after I threw myself into assignments. Which took me two hours to complete.

Now I've got a blanket thrown over my bed, protecting it from the paint as I finish off my Rose. It takes a lot of focus and concentration to make it right, especially with the shadows and gradient contours.

The sound of my handle being pressed down sounds over Selena Gomez. A knock follows soon after. I locked my door not to keep anyone out but as a precaution, in case the flood gates suddenly decided to fall open once more. To give me time to, I don't know, fix my face and make it appear as if I wasn't balling my eyes out?

"Hazel," my mum calls.

I don't say anything in hopes of her thinking I'm asleep, not wanting to snap my reprieve from crying just yet.

"Hazel," she repeats, her voice growing panicked, her knocking vigorous.

Memories resurface and I suck my lower lip into my mouth, guilt washing down on me.

"Hazel!" She shouts, fear lacing her tone as she begins to bang on the door.

'You did this to her. If you didn't do what you did, she wouldn't be like this. You're the epitome of her pain.'

"One minute!" I shout, pulling my sleeves down to hide my fresh cuts. Gouache is hard to get off clothes because an apron, stupidly, doesn't cover your arms. I learnt that the hard way and so did my favourite sweater. I unlock the door.

"Why weren't you responding?" She asks, searching my room then me with a look of raw worry.

"Sorry, I had my headphone in so I didn't hear you," I lie, sitting down on the bed. My room is not big enough to accommodate two people standing at the same time. Well, it is, but it gives me anxiety and makes me feel confined in a way that brings back bad memories. It's weird because I have a small room, but it's something that also confuses me.

"What are you doing?" She questions, looking down at the rose painting that's still not halfway done.

"It's for art class," I tell her, sighing. With how slow I am in everything, will I be able to complete this on time?

"Rose for Rosie?" she smiles. "It's beautiful."

Actually, that's not what I was thinking when I picked it off Pinterest, but I can't exactly tell her that.

I return her smile. "Thank you."

I suck my lower lip. Why is she here?

She stands over me and strokes my hair back away from my face, before hugging my head to her chest.  "I'm sorry," she mumbles, kissing the top of my head.

I close my eyes, warding off the impending tears. "It's okay, "I whisper past the massive lump in my throat.

"You know I love you more than anyone and anything. You're my first child. The first one to make me a mother."

Her voice? I look up and my heart cracks at the sight of her tears.

"Mum," I croak out, my own tears streaming free.

Memories I don't want to remember, arise. Me and my mum hugging each other and crying because of my sperm donor as she burns his pictures. Me and her crying in the dark whilst...

I shake my head. I don't— can't remember those things again, I won't be able to stop crying... or cutting. I'll cut so dee—

"When you left I got so scared that you'd crash the car. And when you wouldn't answer the door —" She kisses my head again. "— I thought you—"