"Michael Gordon Clifford!" Michael's mom shouted, giving him a swift hit over the head. She was currently dragging Michael out of school by his ear for improper apparel.
"Ow, f -" Michael whispered, rubbing the area where she had hit. He stopped himself before finishing the current curse word flying out of his mouth. He was in enough trouble as it was, he didn't need more punishments piled onto the ones he was about to receive.
"I cannot believe you! First you quit your job, and now this? Can’t you just give me a week of peace!’ She scolded. Michael sighed, feeling regretful of his past few fuck-up’s that could’ve easily been avoided. Michael’s mom yanked him forward by his ear, making him groan in pain from both his ear and neck that was bent at an awkward angle to accommodate his mother's height.
“And what did I say about dying your hair? Why do you constantly defy me, Michael?” She yelled, giving him another hard bop on the head.
“I’m sorry! I won’t dye in anymore I promise!” Michael pleaded. Most of the time in situations much like this, he would be a hard ass and probably roll his eyes and curse the person out, but when it came to his mother, he would drop to his knees and beg for forgiveness. They had finally reached the parking lot, and Michael’s mother released his ear from her tight grip, whipping around and pointing a finger into his chest.
“You are to follow me straight home, you hear? No funny business.” Michael quickly nodded, and they split ways. Michael did just as she said, and quickly texted Ashton that he was in a ton of trouble and would probably need a ride to school for a little bit, as Michael’s mother had a history of taking away his keys. He also deleted any incriminating apps, texts, and pictures knowing that too would most likely be confiscated and looked through.
They arrived home and she marched into the house, Michael following silently behind, feeling smaller than a mouse. Michael kept following her until they reached the kitchen, she slowly turned around to face her son.
“Michael, I just - I can’t watch you go down this path anymore!” She whispered, putting her head in her hands. “I failed to raise you right, I tried to let you spread your wings and express yourself, but you’ve spun out of control.”
A pang of guilt hit Michael in the chest. Hearing his mother talk about him like that made him realize just how much of a fuck up he was. Maybe it’s not too late..
“Give me your keys and phone, you won’t be getting them back for awhile.” She held out her palm. Michael didn’t even protest as he handed over his lifelines and freedom.
“Now, go upstairs and clean your room.” She said, choking on a sob. Michael looked up at her face, red and stained by tears. He had made his mother cry. Fuck.
Without another word being exchanged, Michael slumped back up to his room, plopping down on his floor, which was so covered in clothes you couldn’t even see the floor anymore. He slowly picked up each article of clothing and folded them, neatly placing them in his drawers and closet. It was so silent, and he had nothing to distract him. All he could do was sit and think.
Michael realized that he couldn’t act like this forever, and his hole ‘I’m young and don’t give a fuck’ mind set was quickly wearing thin. As he lay in bed because he had nothing better to do, Michael came up with two plans. One to make it up to his mom for the last 18 years, and the other to grow up.
-
The next morning Ashton came by to pick up Michael. Yesterday, the school called Michael’s house to give him an ‘official warning’. Basically, if Michael fucked up again, he’d be expelled. Right now, Michael had about three I.S.S.’s and around eight detentions to serve. When his mom had told him this, she didn’t even seem mad. She had just completely given up on Michael, and it only made him feel guiltier.
