Pall Malls + Poetry // Judd Birch x OC/Reader

Eighty Whole Milligrams

Emily sat on the couch nursing a migraine. She felt disgusting. Her hair was greasy from not having showered yet, her clothes were dirty, and she still hadn't used the bathroom since fooling around with Judd the night before. So on top of the migraine, she'd have to chug a gallon of cranberry juice in order to not get a UTI.

"What in the absolute hell has possessed you, Emily?!" Her mother shouted, her shrill voice reminded Emily of the howler that Ron received in Harry Potter, and she winced as the sound pierced through her skull.

"I told you, it was an accident. Leah and I fell asleep watching a movie and by the time I woke up it was too late for me to walk home. I'm sorry."

Her apology sounded less than sincere. In fact, it was rehearsed. Judd knew that she'd be in a load of shit when she got home, so they came up with a believable story together during the drive. Emily sucked down three whole cigarettes during that fifteen minutes, her knees tucked against her chest. She knew that any momentary freedom she had was gone.

"So you CALL!" Olivia screeched, "Or you text, ask one of us to pick you up, something! You could've been dead in a ditch somewhere for all we knew!"

Even Bruce rolled his eyes. He stood behind his wife with his arms crossed as if he were actually on her side, really he couldn't care less. Emily leaned forward and rested her elbows on her knees, she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

Even though her night had been spent in the back of Judd's car, she couldn't remember a time when she'd slept better. If she were only a few months older, that could be her life all the time. Hell, even if she were treated like a normal person. The tight leash her mother kept her on was wrapping even tighter around her neck, suffocating her.

Emily glared up at her mom, "Why can't I be a teenager?" she asked.

Bruce's eyebrows raised from the back of the room. He'd seen plenty of feuds between mother and daughter and knew the tell-tale signs of one in the making.

"You think that locking me in this house is keeping me safe but it's just driving me fucking crazy, mom. Actually crazy!" Emily continued, "I turn eighteen in five months, what incentive are you giving me to stick around after that? I want to make friends. Real fucking friends, sometimes that means sleepovers. Is that so fucking radical, that I want friends I can stay the night with?"

Olivia stared at her daughter wide eyed for a moment — the kind a person gives when they know they've been bested, but their pride is too strong to admit that they're wrong — then she sighed, "Can't your friends stay here?"

Emily and Bruce locked eyes. "No. My room is filled with paint and shit, there's no space."

She couldn't stand the idea of Bruce sizing up other girls her age, or the thought of him catching them alone in the kitchen in the middle of the night. Even hypothetical friends, she couldn't bear to put them in harm's way.

Olivia sat on the edge of the couch opposite her daughter, mimicking her stance. She rubbed her temples with her eyes closed. "Why don't you go get ready, sweetie. Let's go to church for guidance and then we can talk about it as a family."

Every nerve in Emily's brain exploded. She threw herself back on the couch, "Ohhhh my goddddd," the maniacal laughter began and Bruce knew that this was the breaking point, "we aren't a fucking family, mom! What don't you understand about that?!"

"Emily!" Her mother shouted in warning.

"You and dad and I were a family! This—" She motioned between the three of them, "We will never be a fucking family! You're my overbearing mother, Bruce is my creepy stepdad, and I'm your daughter that you think is crazy when in reality I'm just so. fucking. FRUSTRATED! I don't want to go to goddamn church!"