Athalia Quinn

13 - Bobella

"Alia—"

I make my way to the tall and wide black door. "If you don't want to keep me in the loop of whatever is happening, then that's fine. I won't be in the loop." His expression is entirely unreadable. "It's okay," I say, and I mean it. Even though I don't feel okay about it.

"I'll give you a ride home, babe," Frannie offers, about to follow me out.

"Hell no," Levi sneers to her. "I will."

"I'm walking," I inform them, allowing no room for argument.

I pretend not to catch the disappointed expression on Levi's face as I shut the door, making the long trek to my house while praying that Momma isn't mad.

☆☆☆

Warning: Sensitive scene ahead:

Well, Mom's awake. She's lounging on the couch, blankly staring at the wall in front of her.

I attempt to sneak past her unnoticeably.

Does that work?

Ha, of course not, you silly goose.

"Where were you all night?" she questions, eyes remaining on the wall. She's tired, she's quiet. But I've learned my lesson to think I'll be okay. I won't.

"I'm sorry," I quietly say in response.

"I didn't catch that," she lies, at last dragging her gaze to me. I nearly gasp.

Her eyes are rimmed in purple circles, indicating no sleep. Her cheeks are hallow, much hollower than before and it's only been a day since I last saw her. Her lips are cracked, dry as ever. She's sickly pale.

"I'm sorry," I repeat, louder this time.

"Are you?" She tilts her head, thin brown locks moving with her. "This is the second time you've left your mother all alone."

And how many times have you left me all alone, momma?

"Out being a slut again, I imagine," she drawls. Mom swipes a beer bottle off the littered coffee table, drinking whatever's left, apparently unaware of the fact that it's not even noon.

"I wasn't," I tell her cautiously, slowly moving to the stairs.

"Don't you fucking lie to me, Athalia Parker. What have you learned about lying to your damn mother?"

I want to scream in her face that I don't lie to her. I've lied to her once in the last ten years, and that was for her own sake. How many times has she lied to me? Many. So, so many.

I answer in a whisper, "Not to."

"Enough with the mumbling!" She yells, shooting up. She hurls the beer bottle at me.

I don't have much time to move out of its path.

An ache erupts on my stomach as glass shatters. I hunch over, remaining on my feet, clutching my stomach. Well dang, that'll bruise.

"I don't want to see you ever again," Momma slurs in my face, the reek of alcohol burning my nose. "I'd rather have no daughter at all than a slut of one. Than a fucking disappointment of one."

Tears pierce my eyes.

She watches a tear roll down my cheek, one I tried not to let fall. She doesn't say anything for a long moment, just curling her lip at me in disgust.

Then, "Your father hated you, you know."

"You're the reason he left."

"You're the reason he's gone."