Stripped

Chapter 2.

Once I step into my tiny apartment I drop my bags on the ground and begin taking off my shoes. A strong smell of cigarettes fill my nose and I look down the hallway leading up to my bedroom to discover my room light. I usually always remember to turn off everything before I leave the house considering I'm usually the one the pays every bill in here. Even though technically this is my mothers apartment since I moved in with her she's usually never home. I see her maybe six times a year?

She comes back only when her boyfriend kicks her out or when she needs a change of cloths. The first couple of years of the back and fourth was tough, but now that I'm finding my way, it almost doesn't affect me at all.

Just as I begin walking toward the light I hear a loud thump followed by a grunt. I quickly rush back to the front door and release a fearful squeal.

"Roxy baby it's me- it's me!" My mother rushes out of the room. My body relaxes and I put my hands down to my side once I see her face clearly.

"I didn't mean to scare you I just came by to check up on you. I've been calling you for the past three weeks and you haven't been answering me, I was worried about you. " my mother sighs. She brings me into her embrace and immediately I smell liquors and that cigarette smell but ten times stronger

"Mom-" I grunt trying to get her to loosen her grip.

"I'm sorry. You need to answer, I need to make sure you're safe it's only ever you here." She says as she gestures to the apartment. She acts like I chose this. No one's ever here because she's never home. God knows what shes doing when she's out for months at a time.

"Well if you came around more you'd that I'm fine." I say coldly. I don't like the fact that she plays loving mother when she's constantly leaving me in this stupid apartment by myself. She doesn't even help out with bills anymore.

I press my lips to together to prevent myself from saying anything else that might cause an argument.

I walk into the kitchen and grab myself a water bottle from the fridge before meeting my mother back in the living room. Her arms are crossed and her hands are over her mouth as if she's trying to hold back tears. I hate that every time she comes back home it always has to be dramatic. As cold as it sounds, I rather her just come back home, get whatever she needs, maybe catch up with me then leave again.

"Why are you crying?" I ask.

"Nothing. It's just I know that I'm never here. I've just got so much to do. I have a lot to do." She explains. Her words are almost slurred. The more she speaks the more I'm starting to realize she might be drunk.

"How about I stay for the weekend? It's Friday night maybe we can do each others nails and watch a movie. Girl stuff you know," she beams roughly rubbing off the tears trying to come out of her eyes.

"I'm really tired I just came back from work. I rather just relax but if you wanna stay please be my guest."

"Oh Roxy I know you don't consider that place an actual job do you?" She says with a slight glimpse of disgust in her tone.

"You see these lights." I point to the light beside the front door and turn it on. "The reason these are on is because of the job I have." I finish. How dare she try to criticize me for how I choose to pay the bills that she left me with.

"When I was your age you wanna know what I did?" My mother looks up at me before continuing. "I worked at a car dealership. I knew nothing about cars I couldn't stand the place, but at least I had my dignity."

"Don't fucking judge me!" I spit. How dare she try to compare herself to me? When she was my age she had both of her parents at home.

My mother was never abandoned or left to figure anything out on her own. It's thoughts like that make me wonder how she turned out like this. She came from a great family. Her father was a plumber that made a pretty decent living for the family, and her mother was a devoted stay at home mother. I've always assumed when people came up from a good household they treated their children better, but I guess I was mistaken.