My Side Of The Story

Darkness

A/N: This is my first attempt at an actual book, so please don't judge. Feedback and comments will be highly appreciated. Hope you guys like my style of writing. Cheers ✌️ Oh, and italics are used for thoughts and feelings.

Darkness. It can soar over endless spaces. It consumes and destroys. Darkness fuels the evil and intimidates the rest..
And right now, there isn't anything I could do about the everlasting darkness that lurks, lingers above everything. Above my sad everyday called life.
All I ever do now is stand and stare, digesting everything that has happened it the past few months; my mother had died, and was returned to simple scraps of ash. The mother I knew, for eighteen long vivid years, just gone. This is impossible to accept, because I am a strong believer of oblivion after death. So, what now? There's nothing left .
My mind constantly goes back to that moment, I found my mother sprawled across our lavender tinted couch, inhaling sharp quick breaths. I still remember the aghast expression on her helpless face and the intense pain illustrated through her eyes. I saw that pain soothe as she pronounced my name, "Malaya!"with relief seeping through her seeing that help had arrived. That was her last word. Malaya. And this haunts me every night.
...
(flashback)
May's POV
"I'm your mother. You have to listen- Please. Why you still be like this ! Your father has gone! I can't do this anymore now..It has been years now, baby He not coming back.. Why you no listen to me- " , she cried, hopelessly flailing her arms around, trying to construct a sensible sentence.
"Go jump in a well, mom. I don't care. " I announced, as I ricocheted her frustration back into her clouded red rimmed eyes, my face perfectly expressionless.
"Oh - but- I", she choked out, stuttering as she tried to control the endless sobs escaping her parched purplish lips.
I looked away hastily. I hated seeing her like this. So weak and so vulnerable. So..delusional.
"Get a grip, ma.", I blatantly replied.
"Malaya!", She cried desperately, grabbing onto my arm and digging her jagged fingernails into my tanned skin in frustration.
I forcefully shoved her aside, sending her tumbling down onto the hard wood, and stormed my way upstairs. I could hear her loud disgusting sobs as they echoed through the walls of the dreaded place. I didn't care.
She always called me "Malaya". She was about the only person who referred to me using my birth name, as everyone else knew that I loathed it. And every time she did, fury resided in my heart and rushed through my veins.
"Omg, Renae, She's officially mental. She said no to the party! Who does that. -.- *sighhh*. Come pick me up?" I texted my gorgeous Jamaican best friend, Renae.
'Gosh, I need the stress relief. I need to get away from this madhouse.'
I received an instant reply.
"I'll be right there. Get dressed. <3."
'Thats more like it.'
Renae had always been there to lighten my mood when things got cranky at home.
I shoved my supplies into my Channel handbag- my phone, lip gloss, mascara and, of course, pepper spray. There was a rumor of some creepy stalker guy at the club we always go to. Oh well, could my life get any worse? I doubt it.
I started on my masterpiece, as I layered on my MAC makeup products onto my face and the slightly brown, dry, blotchy skin I inherited from my "ever loving mother" got better and better by the minute. One more reason for me to detest her - she gave me hideous skin. I traced my plush pink lips with a red lip liner and filled it in with a luscious red lipstick which amplified it's volume. I then dabbed a swish of shiny lipgloss on them and smacked them together. Perfection. Not entirely promiscuous. I drew along my eyelids and flecked my black eyeliner at the ends, creating perfectly winged lines and finished off my signature look by enhancing the natural contours of my face using a bronzer. If there was anything I was perfect at, it would be my undeniably good makeup skills.
Fifteen minutes later, I heard the click clacking of the latches of the big mahogany door that was the gateway of this hellhole being unlocked, as my guardian angel, Ranae, came stumbling in. "Uhmm, Mrs. Padma, where's May?" She awkwardly inquired.
Mom simply sat and stared blankly at the crisp white walls, sniffing and stifling, like a person trying desperately to inhale marijuana , which was the aftermath of a hard sob. She was completely unaware of Renae's presence.
"Okay..", Renae said, eyebrows raised, as she invited herself inside, not bothering to take her shoes off, as she trailed mud all over the freshly vacuumed carpets.
"Hey May!" She beamed, as she threw my door open.
"Ouch! " I cried out in frustration, as I yanked the hairbrush out of the long black natural disaster I call my hair.
My legs gave way as I slumped onto my king-sized bed, and my thoughts flowed like water, clogging up my head.
'Why is she so insensitive? She'll never understand me. She's so outcasted. We're not in India anymore, She is so-'
"That time of the month already?" She joked.
"Ha ha", I sarcastically replied.
"Seriously, what's up with you? Your face looks distorted, all that frowning is really disturbing.", She remarked, more out of agitation than concern. "Oh and by the way, your mom was in some kind of alien trance when I walked in. What's up her scrawny butt now?", she distastefully inquired.
'The usual. She's too flabbergasted about how I'm not her "perfect traditional Indian daughter"'.
"What should I wear?!", I whined, in contempt to divert the embarrassing subject regarding my mentally unstable mother.
"Girl, I bet you wouldn't find a single piece of clothing if you searched in that wardrobe full of sexless clothing all your life. Leave it to moi- we can drop by my place and grab something on our way, maybe?", She suggested.
"Thanks, Ren. You're a lifesaver." I said, grinning.
"Anytime. Let's go partayy!", She squealed.
We crept back downstairs and I came to a halt when we faced my mom. She was scrubbing the carpets vigorously, frustratingly muttering vile curses in hindi. She glanced at me with fury and resumed her activities. Ignore her. We awkwardly crept out the door and raced to Ren's car.