Break Me

chapter twenty-nine

I don't remember anything about my birth parents. When they gave me up they didn't leave me with a locket with their faces in it or a stuffed animal that they knew I couldn't sleep without. They didn't leave me with anything that I could claim to say they loved me, that they gave me up because it was the best thing for me. They left me in front of a fire station, in a box, in the middle of winter, with nothing on but an oversized grey t-shirt. And people were always sure to remind me of it.

So when I wake up in the morning after having a very vivid dream of my mother, you can imagine my confusion. I've never dreamed about my parents before, I don't even have a solid memory of them. I don't know what they look like, what they sound like, nothing. But in my dream there was a split second where I saw her face, very clearly. I don't know why it happened, I shouldn't be able to see her face if I have no idea what she looks like.

In my dream she had black hair like mine but it was pin straight. She had my eyes but hers were dull. No life in them, she just held a blank stare, and that's how she looked at me. No love, no nurture, no want, no motherly instinct. Her eyes were empty, void, except for one emotion, hate. She stared at me with hate for one second and then she left. She was gone, and that's when I woke up.

My body immediately jerks and I sit up from under the covers. My hair is sticking to my face from the excess amount of sweat on my skin. Maybe it's a mixture of sweat and tears but I'm not entirely sure. I don't even know if I'm breathing. If I am I'm not conscious of it. I'm not conscious of anything. I can't get that picture out of my head which is ironic considering I don't even even know if it was real.

"VANESSA!" I hear Mason scream my name.

I feel my body jerk again and suddenly I'm aware of everything. Mostly I'm aware of the fact that I actually hadn't been breathing. I gasp for oxygen but as soon as I do I get that vile feeling in the back of my throat.

I run to the bathroom and hurl my insides into the toilet. She's messing with me. After sixteen years of not caring, I have one dream about my mother, who I don't even know, and now I'm crouched over the toilet because of the way she looked at me. There is also a ninety nine point nine percent chance that this is all in my head because I have no clue what she looks like, not even a picture to reference from.

Mason holds my hair out of my face while I continue to dry heave and cough until nothing else comes out. He hands me a towel and I wipe my mouth.

"Are you okay?" Mason asks.

Am I okay? I can't get her face out of my head. More specifically her eyes. They were just so...empty and hateful.

"S-She hated me" I croak out. "She-"

My eyes get blurry from the tears that begin spilling out of them, turning my face into niagara falls. Who in their right mind would have a child if they would hate it so much? I mean what was the point? She could have spared me sixteen years of neglect if she would of just...not had me.

Mason pulls me into his lap and I cry into his chest. I hate crying. I try to stop but I just can't. I can't get her out of my head.

It's not real, it's in my head. I try to remind myself.

He turns my head so that I'm looking at him. "Stop crying and talk to me" he wipes my face. "Who hates you?" he asks furrowing his eyebrows.

"I had a dream my birth mother she-her eyes they-" I can't pull a complete sentence from my brain.

I shake my head and put my face back in his neck. I can't talk right now, I just need him to hold me.

He lifts me up and walks us back over to the bed. He gently lays me down and then walks out of the room. I sigh and pull the covers over me. He comes back a few seconds later and hands me a glass of water. I gulp it down with urgency. It cools me down instantly and once I'm done he takes the glass and sits it on the ground before climbing into bed with me.