terrible things e.s.

5 pt.2

Not edited

The next few days passed quickly. Mom brought my food up for me, sat down on my bed, rubbing my back as I hiccuped, "You gotta eat something, babe," her sweet, soothing voice whispered. I'd nod my head and sip on some chicken-noodle. I hadn't had a shower in days and I knew I stunk, but I was hurting and there was pain in my chest and it felt better to lay in bed and sulk, than it did to be downstairs.

Finally, one day, my mom had had enough. She poked her head in, leading on the doorframe.

"I know your hurting but... Rory, sweetie, you've been up here for days. Your room smells horrific and you're not looking so good yourself."

"I look how I feel," I mumble into my pillow.

"And it's so dark in here," she scrunched her nose as she fully steps into my room.

"Like my soul." My mom laughs at me.

"You don't mean that, honey. Why don't you take a shower and get some new, clean, clothes on, then we can move the pity party downstairs. I hate you being up here by yourself," she sighed.

I thought it over, "What else?"

"I'll... Make Mac N'Cheese?"

"I'll consider it... if, we get to watch the Notebook," Mom raised her brow at me, suspiciously.

"You hate that movie."

"CAN A GIRL NOT BE IRONIC IN A TIME OF DESPAIR?"

"CAN MY DAUGHTER PLEASE COME OUT OF HER BEDROOM IN HER TIME OF DESPAIR?"

"Don't mimic me..."

"Then don't be a bitch," she said simply, walking out of my room, "Don't forget to shower!"

You see, the problem with your mom being your Bestfriend, its that sometimes she forgets the line between Mom and Cara. I was a person of few friends and the ones I did have from school, I never invited over.

Lazily, I climb from the depths of my sheets and saunter to the connected bathroom. I take a glance in the mirror, cringing at what I see; I look like I had been hit by a truck, then run over by four other passing vehicles. My fingers tiredly ran over the ghost of a love bite on my collar bone. A single tear rolled down my cheek, and I hurriedly wipe it away, dark smudges of black makeup coming along with it, "No, not this time."

After my shower, and a good ten minutes of trying to scrub the makeup stains from my cheeks, I brush my teeth and towel dry my hair. Following that, I slipped on a new pair of sweatpants and a simple white shirt, and brought my wet hair up into a horrific bun atop my head.

I take the walk of shame down stairs, into the kitchen, where the first person I see is my sister, Piper.

"Wow, don't you look like shit," she was pouring some coffee into a mug. Since when has she been so grown up?

"Shut up, you're, like, twelve." I make my way over to the island, taking a seat by my mom, who's clipping coupons.

"Grow up, you're, like, nineteen," she fires back.

"Both of you, stop bickering." my mom mutters beside me. Me and Piper look give mom a look.

"Fine," I mumble, leaning my back in my seat.

"Hey, I don't smell any Mac, mom. I thought we had a deal?" I bring up, sad about the lack of warm, cheesy Easy Mac scent that should be filling the kitchen by now.

"We do, I just had to do a few things before I was going to get started," she put down the scissors carefully, "Piper, can you do me a favor and get the box for the Macaroni out from the pantry?"