Bliss

Chapter 10: Me And Dyl. Dyl And I

Chapter 10: Me And Dyl. Dyl And I

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You've let your hair grow out."

"Yeah."

"Why don't you cut it?"

"They don't let me near any scissors."

"That's wise, but I mean you could go to the institution salon."

"Or, I couldn't."

"You would suit your hair lighter."

"I'm going to dye it darker, as dark as it will possible go, actually."

My mother sighs and leans back, she looks exhausted. Good, hopefully she will pass out and her visiting time will come to an 'unfortunate' end.

She may be tired but she still had the effort to straighten her short honey blond hair to perfection, iron her clothes until they were crisp, and put her makeup on. Yet, she couldn't even find the will power to manage a smile to her now only daughter when she first walked in.

And the mom of the year goes to... Wendy Fitzgerald! For showing her son, Leighton, her undying devotion when she first came into the visiting room, with a kiss and a basket of muffins.

Oh, bummer. Maybe next year mom.

"Why do you insist on being so difficult all the time?" She asks, crossing her arms. I shrug.

"'Cause, you don't like it." I say in a nonchalant voice. My mother sighs again and shakes her head.

"You just don't accept any help, do you?" She frowns thoughtfully, fiddling with her pearl necklace with one hand.

Pearl necklace. You think she could afford to bring me some muffins in every once in a while.

I roll my eyes. Oh, here we go again.

It's not that I don't want help, 'cause as Nana Belle used to say, everyone wants help and secretly, everyone needs it.

It's just that, in my opinion, shoving someone into a Mental Institution, where we're not even allowed to use knives to cut our own dinner and finger painting is actually on the activities rota, isn't going to help me. In the slightest.

"Some help would be accepted. Just not your shitty attempt at pretending to be sympathetic." I declare, trying to relax. I'm always so tense when she's around me. I think it's because I'm holding back the screams and I want to hit her so freaking bad.

My mom gives me a long, scrutinising look.

"You're mad because I agreed to a prolonged sentence, aren't you?" She says, sounding happy that she has figured it out all by herself.

I turn my face away, completely ignoring her.

I'm mad because you're a failed excuse for a mother and you suck at everything you do, you didn't love your children, you were too afraid of him to help us, you can't even cook Mac and Cheese, you didn't even try to help Casey...

"Look," my mother says. "I drove all the way down here, don't you think it's childish to not speak to me, Elizabeth?"

God, when she talks like that, she doesn't half sound like The Bitch. They probably go to 'illiterate strategy class' together.

Idiots.

"You drove all the way down here, 'cause you get a kick out of seeing me so miserable." I hiss, reluctantly turning my head back towards her.