I JUST WANT YOU TO LIKE ME | ✓

▬ 16: grenade pin

            'Don't!' Má seizes my wrist before I can roll up the blinds from the kitchen window. Her fingernails indent my skin and I let go of the beaded string so she can yank the fabric back down, plunging us in the dark. 'They're looking.'

Her skin is sallow, the circles around her eyes darker than usual. She hasn't been going to work, I assume. She hasn't even gone outside if the drawn blinds and empty fridge are owt to judge by.

Iris is staying at Chloe's for their GCSE period and Má has gotten worse than I judged over the phone. I might have to come stay for a bit — left alone, she'll only get worse.

'Who?'

'The neighbours. They'll phone the police. They want to take you away from me.'

Challenging her when she gets like this does nowt but make her angry, so I don't. I ease my arm out of her grip, tugging my sleeve over the crescents, and turn on the lights so I can unpack the groceries.

I'm s'posed to be watching Before Midnight with Ziri right now. We've been looking forward to it since it were announced and booked tickets to the premiere a month ago, but instead I'm here.

I were on the phone with Má for four hours yesterday, trying to stop her from reeling into paranoia. When I came back Ziri had already gone to sleep, having done the washing up and covered my half-eaten dinner with a plate. He said he's not angry about it but I imagine that he is, or maybe he didn't expect enough from me to get angry. After three years of us living together, he no longer expects enough from me to get angry. What am I s'posed to do though? I can't ignore her, she's my mother.

Má stops peering out the window and turns to me. She crosses the room before I see her take a step. Then she's yanking at my hoodie as if to pull it off me. 'Aren't you hot in this?'

'No,' I lie. Though I do roll up the sleeves so they don't get into the food; my tattoos only start two-thirds down my arms.

Má's glare is an oil burn on my hands as I stab open the packet of chicken. I decided to make bánh xèo because they're quick and I don't think Má's eaten in days, but she don't seem pleased by the alteration of the recipe.

'I don't understand why you can't eat pork.'

We've had this conversation enough times for me to know how it'll go, so I don't answer. It's just much easier for us to eat the same food, but Má refuses to believe it were my idea even when she's not... like this.

Her stare hooks into mine and reels in an invisible wire until I'm forced to face her. Her reddened eyes brim with tears though I can't tell if it's just her body trying to counteract the dryness or if she's genuinely crying. 'He's trying to turn you against me.' When Má whispers, it's somehow thrice as loud as when she yells. 'He brainwashed you to move to Brighton just to take you away from me.'

'No, he didn't.' I bite the words too late and catch only my tongue. I scrub the taste of iron against the roof of my mouth as I wash my hands. 'He's my boyfriend.'

'You're my husband!'

'I'm your son.'

Drying my hands, I try to breathe through the grave opening in my chest. I might collapse inward into it. I struggle to meet her eye as if she's the sun and I'll go blind if I look directly, though it's more like a black hole.

Má's voice is splintered and shrill. 'I know that. Why d'you think I don't know that?'

The watery aura seeps from her eyes to the rest of her, like she isn't entirely solid. When she collapses into my chest, I almost expect her to pass through, to become a puddle permanently inside me. Her hands root to my back. Somehow, it feels as though she's inside my skin.