Breaking Down

Chapter 4:

"Fuck, no!" I screamed in her face. "I'm not fucking going back to that place."

"Jess, there is no other option." She said, trying to sound strong.

"You can't force me to go." The tears were streaming down my face as I stared at her defeated green eyes. She could never hide her emotions. All it would take is a little more pressing and she would cave in. "I am an adult now. I won't agree to it."

"Jessa, I love you. I love you more than you will ever know. Please remember that." My Mom was frowning and looked down at her hands.

"I know, Mom." I rolled my eyes at her drama. "You love me. You only want what's best for me. I am your world... blah...blah...blah. Nineties rock is better than alt-rock. The Ghostbusters Movies should have never been remade. Clean your microwave with vinegar instead of harsh chemicals. Do you think vinegar kills bacteria when you put it in the microwave? Do bacteria feel it when they die? Is death really final?"

"Jessa." She screamed in frustration. "Focus on the conversation, please."

"Got it, Momma. I heard you the first time. Inpatient program. Now hear me, I'm not going. End of dialogue. Cut scene."

I leaned back into the couch cushions and crossed my arms like the ill-mannered miscreant I was. How could she possibly make me go? They would have to drag me out of here by my hair in order to get me to go back to that facility. Her normally luminous green eyes lost their sparkle as she stared back at me. Instead of gemstones, they looked like the forest floor.

She took a deep breath and leaned in, staring at me with a stone face.

"If you choose not to go, then you will need to find another place to stay." Her voice quivered a bit at the end, but she didn't break her gaze.

"You're not fucking serious! You can't kick me out!" I laughed in her face. "You're a trip, Mom. Good one."

"Jessa, I'm completely serious. If you choose not to manage your condition, then you have two options. Either someone will manage it for you or you will not be allowed in this house where you can hurt your brother again." She was crying a little.

It didn't matter; she was still a bitch.

Everything in my line of sight had been painted in a veil of red. How could she do this to me? Did my Dad know what she was scheming? He would never agree to this. I jumped up to go straight for her throat. I wrapped my hands around her neck and began squeezing as hard as I could. What poor excuse for a mother kicked out their kid like that? I didn't do anything to deserve being treated this way. She needed to suffer for what she was doing to me.

As soon as I went to go bash her head into the coffee table, a hard arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me off her. My foot caught on the coffee table leg and I landed hard on my back, sprawled out on the floor. This was the second time in a few hours I was lying on my back staring at the pictures of my brother grinning at me. I groaned, turning over, trying to lift my bruised tailbone up.

When I leaned back up on my elbows, my Dad was staring down at me. His tall body looked larger than life as he lorded over me. I guess he was on my Mom's side on this one.

"Don't you ever put your hands on your Mother again." He growled down at me. My inner defiant child wanted to go over and poke her just to piss him off some more. Touch, touch.  Poke, poke, poke.  What was he really going to do?

When I looked at my Mom, she was rubbing her throat and sobbing.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

I really messed up this time.

My Dad walked towards the duffel bag I packed and picked it up. He walked to the front door, opened it, and tossed it on the porch.

"You can't do this!" I screamed and slammed my hands on the floor as hard as I could. Bloodcurdling shrieks emanated from me. The sound waves wanted to shatter all the glass in the room.

"Goodbye, Jessa." My Dad whispered, walking past me without another glance. He headed straight for my Mom and pulled her onto his lap to comfort her. He stroked her perfect light curls and whispered softly into her. I couldn't hear exactly what he was saying, except a little piece about doing the right thing.

How was kicking me out the right thing? If I needed help so badly, then why couldn't I stay so they could take care of me?  I didn't have a job, I had no money, and now I was going to have no place to live.

Parents of the fucking year.

I climbed to my feet and stomped out the open door without even glancing back at the two people who cared more about themselves than me. I couldn't believe they were doing this to me. I bent down and picked up the bag to sling it over my shoulders. I looked around, hoping my grandpa's guitar had magically made its way to the porch. Of all the things I needed the most right now, that guitar was at the top of my list. I turned around to go back in to get it and was staring directly at Jax's bruised face.

He blinked once at me and then slammed the door in my face.