bare [h.s.]

Dysfunctional

"Where have you been?"
My mother asks when the front door sways opens, and her daughter, adorned in the black dress she left in, stumbles through.

"Out," I say sharply,
heading for the stairs.
The only thing on my mind
is the comfort my bed will bring.
She blocks my path with an arm,
pushing me back to look at her.

"I'll ask again. Where?"
She inspects my face
and apparel for any signs
of my whereabouts,
making assumptions in her mind
before the explanation can
slip off my tongue.

"That boy," She points her finger
too close to my face.
"You slept with that boy."

"You're wrong," I state,
frowning at her lack of faith in me.

"Don't," She whimpers,
her painted lips quivering at the dirty thoughts bouncing around in the back of her mind.
Her crystal eyes gloss over with tears, and she clears her throat
before beginning the lecture.
"Don't lie to me. I can see the guilt on your face. Don't lie to me!"

"I'm not!" I yell, taking several
steps away from her.
With both palms pressed against my forehead, her quiet crying nearly makes my head burst.
"Would you stop accusing me of things I didn't do? Thanks Mom."

She continues with the awful
accusations as I get a brief
glimpse of my brother
peering down from
the second floor.
He shakes his head at me,
almost disapproving of my actions,
which sets my anger off to new levels.

"Do you have something to say, Zachary? Do you want to tell me how big of a whore I am?
Or better yet,
if I disgust you
so damn much--"
I cut myself off
when he runs into another room, slamming the door.
The thunderous sound echoes
through the house as bony fingers
clench around my arm.

"Get out," She demands,
releasing my wrist momentarily
to open the front door.
"Come back when you can
speak to your family with respect."

"Where do you want me to go?"
I scoff as she directs me outside.
"You're mad when I'm out
all night, and now
you want me gone?"

"Please leave, Sawyer. I won't ask a second time," She says, wiping
at her dampened eyes.
Defeated, I watch as the door
closes and sit on the porch.

I kick at few pebbles on the concrete below my feet,
expecting her to let me in soon.
But the slim chance of that happening is crushed after a gruelling ten minutes of waiting.

I scroll through the contacts
listed on my phone and
stop at the one name
that brings comfort to this situation, hitting dial.