Just as I Begin to Fade

Twelve. Beautiful

Gwen would return home that late afternoon, and she'd see that her mother was curled up on the ground; near the phone and fridge.

Stevie hadn't moved since she had spoken to her ex-husband and she fell asleep after crying. The position just didn't phase her only because it wasn't the oddest position she had ever fallen asleep in.

"Mom?" the teen squatted down and she patted her face.

"Hm?" she flinched rather quickly and woke up. Taking in her surroundings, "I must have fallen asleep," she used her own strength to get up as she wasn't exactly high or drunk. She was simply sleeping the rest of her booze off.

"What were you doing on the floor?" she took a step back in order to get out of her way when she seen she didn't need assistance.

"I was on the phone," she shrugged and then grabbed the beer can and tossed it. "God, I do still have the worst headache," she rubbed her temple with her knuckle.

"I'll get you an aspirin," she assured and went into the cabinet.

"Thanks..." she pulled the chair out and she took a seat once again. "Your father makes my head spin."

The teen stopped what she was doing and she spun around to look back at the woman. "You... You talked to dad?"

Looking up at her, "Yeah..." she shrugged. "It's not completely foreign, kiddo. I just really can't stand him, but when I feel the need to rip into him, I do."

"Well, what did you rip into him about? Not about me, right?"

"No, just for being an asshole," she looked over and furrowed her brow. "Why, what did you do?"

"Nothing, but the simplest argument over me and you guys are ready to kill each other and then he yells at me because he thinks I started it. And I know I didn't."

"That's something you could've told me---I would have yelled at him about that. He loves to bring you into our conversations. But anyway, no, we didn't even really talk about you," she lied, not wanting to bring up what they really did talk about. "He shouldn't be putting his hands on anybody. Gwen, I want you to be honest with me," she reached out for her hand and pulled her forward. "Has he ever touched you ever?"

"No, never. If he did, he'd be getting a slap back," she shrugged. "I just don't understand how he can be so awful," she broke away and she grabbed a glass of water for her mom. Once the task was completed, she took a seat and watched her mom down the pills and water.

"I just ask because he obviously has no qualms and you did spend a great deal of time together when I was working and when I was in rehab," she explained.

"No, I swear he hasn't. If he did, he also may be in jail... and like I said, if he ever did, we would have boxed. I would never allow somebody to touch me or hurt me."

"Good, I'm glad you've thought about how dangerous the world can be. I'm sorry one of the main models of that is your father, but at least you know."

She nodded. She then grew silent and then nudged her mother.

"Ow, what?"

"I'm mad at you and I forgot I wasn't talking to you."

"Mm, you're never talking to me, big whoop."

"Well, I'm not even angry at you, but I am at the fact that you wasted my time, making me believe that there was going to be some change. But I also know it's not your fault, so I can't be mad at you," she crossed her arms.

"I am sorry."

"Look, mom, I know in your head you think you are. But you're not," she said calmly. "You keep doing it over and over again and we're not getting anywhere here. I really want to help you, but if you don't want my help, I'm not going to try."