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( CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT: A MOTHER'S WRATH ) April, 1993
❝ your lies will be the death of him. ❞
◯
Discomfort. That's all Devon felt. Months had passed and he still felt unsettled in his mother's arms. The second Devon's awe-struck gaze stilled, Pamela Emmet reached forward, engulfing her startled son into a stringent embrace. Naturally, Devon didn't respond. He didn't know how to, given the fact that he was still shocked at her appearance in the first place.
However, it all became to real to him the second she pulled away and looked him in the face. The last time Devon stared into her eyes, he remembered feeling an excoriating pain eating him out alive. He remembered the disappointment, the betrayal, the ultimate fear of him never forgiving her ever again. And yet, they both were standing there, separated by so much pain yet brought together by their familial duties.
He was forever tied to her, he had an obligation to her, so in that sense, he could never leave her. "You look so handsome," Devon's mother gasped, hands gently cradling his face in awe, and Devon's first instinct was to flinch. He lurched away from her touch, doughy brown eyes condensed with torment.
He had so many questions, but no amount of curiosity could make him pretend that he was happy to see her—because he wasn't. "H-How did you get here?" Devon muttered, fuzzy brain trying to make sense of her appearance. The tone of his voice was filled with hostility, the walls he used to protect his vulnerability was slowly stacking back up again, it was a shame that it was against his own mother.
Pamela Emmet's gaze wobbled with offence, truthfully expecting for her son to have a different reaction. Devon saw the hurt manifesting on her brown face, and some part of him felt guilt creeping up his spine at the sight. "I got out of rehab, and your uncle said you were in Los Angeles," Devon's mother explained, her voice—which was normally filled with trembling fury—was gentle.
The drastic change was disturbing Devon beyond measure. "I flew here because I needed to see you again, baby, so we can fix this," Pamela said, and with her eyes drooping sadly, she reached forward and touched his arm. Once again, Devon grew jittery.
Fix this? The expression on Devon's face gave away the fact that he wasn't receiving her words well. Just her presence alone made part of him want to slam the door shut so that he could eliminate her from his life forever. But, the other part missed his mother, even after everything she did. He didn't want to admit it, but he had an unhealthy attachment to her.
And as Pamela Emmet stood before her son, she was growing anxious from his silence. "Well, say something Dev, you're being rude," the older woman muttered, a scowl enveloping her features. In an instant, the slight tenderness he felt towards her began to shrivel away.
