Another Chance

I stared at the wall blankly.

One of my hands was holding up a blue rubber ball protectively close to my heart, while the other was caressing the soft mattress of my bed absently. Shaking slightly, part from the cold and part from the raging emotions that threatened to overwhelm me, I shifted my gaze to a picture that I hung on my bedroom wall years ago. As soon as my eyes rested on the occupant of the picture, I felt my hand clutch the rubber ball tighter.

Anguish, longing, and crushing guilt, that was what engulfed me every time I looked at the young boy who grinned at me. His smile alone would paralyze my mind and body, but then I would look at his light brown eyes, and I swear that sometimes I feel the urge to kill myself, because I see what I have missed every minute in my life since he was gone, I would see the innocence, a child's happiness, and adoration. Adoration for me, the person who deserved it least of all.

Someone was knocking on the door, and the sound shock me out of my emotional state. Before I even reached the doorway, and even though I did not give anyone the permission to enter, the door was flung open. Just behind the threshold stood my mom. She stood stiff and still, arms wrapped around her waist, and her chocolate brown eyes stared coldly at me.

Suddenly, I felt annoyed, not particularly from my mom, but from everything in my life. From the unending homework school gave us, to more serious matters, like the fact that my parents seemed to hate me.

"What do you want?" I said rudely, my voice tight.

My mother, raised an eyebrow so high, it disappeared under the bangs of her hair which is the same color as her eyes, only it is a bit darker, so it looked more like black. Her eyes shifted downward, and suddenly her lips thinned into a straight line. Slightly confused, I stared down and realized what she was looking at. The rubber ball. I was still holding it in my hand. I grimaced and reprimanded myself inwardly. I should have been more careful. I shoved the ball quickly into the pocket of my jeans, and then met my mother's gaze stubbornly.

"What is it that you want?" I snapped abruptly, shocking myself for my lack of discipline, but apparently not my mom for she was quick to respond.

"Do not talk to me in that manner, Annie." She said, her voice matching the coldness of her eyes.

I hoped that I looked apathetic, for my heart was breaking slowly with every word exchanged. I realized long before that my relationship with my mother had already fallen from the edge of the cliff. There was no turning back, for no matter what we do it will never be the same again. I don't even remember how our relationship was before this tension between us appeared. Sometimes I wonder if a normal one has ever existed.

"Alright, mom. Now, did you need something? " I said avoiding my mother's eyes.

"I was going to wake you up," She said, "But obviously you were already awake."

With that, she turned around, and before long I heard the door of her room slam shut.

I sighed loudly. Who would have guessed that even the shortest and most meaningless confrontations between a mother and daughter could make someone dizzy with exhaustion.

One glance at my watch sent me flying downstairs. It was already seven forty-five, and I was supposed to be at McDonald at eight sharp. You might ask, why exactly do I have to be at McDonald in such an early hour on a Saturday morning? Well, the answer is pretty simple. I work there. Ever since my parents got separated, I had to work to help my mother, whose salary alone is not enough to pay the bills plus keep the stomachs of one eighteen years old girl and her fully grown mother full. I snatched an apple on my way, making sure that it was the reddest of it sisters, and then hurried outside.