The Psychology of Falling in Love

IV. August 14th

AN: Time to fuck shit up! TW: panic attacks/mental illness, mentions of past trauma. Also: the POV switching will become less common starting the next chapter. These 4 were to lay down the foundation of their relationship.

"Mommy, mommy! I got my report card," I squealed as I ran towards my mother's car.

Mom smiled at me, her stormy eyes sparkling. "Oh, and is it all good, baby?"

"Yes! Yes!"

The teachers laughed at our interaction, admiring the excitement shared between the mother and daughter.

"I'm so proud of you," Mama cooed, taking the paper in her hands. She ruffled my long, curly brunette locks. "We should celebrate."

We agreed on McDonald's. I watched the road as she drove silently. I realized we were heading towards our house- not towards McDonald's.

"Mama, why are we going home?"

"Mama is going to drop you off and then go get the food."

I squinted at my mother, but then nodded. Once we stopped outside of the house, I launched out of the car and ran towards the front door, grabbing the key under the mat.

I busied myself with homework. Once homework was done, I swept and mopped the floor so mama wouldn't have to. Even after that, mama was nowhere to be found. There was only one thing left to do: laundry.

Carrying a basket just as big as me down the stairs was hard, but I was determined. Mama was going to be so proud.

But mom did not come home that night. I sat on the couch, staring at the front door. Waiting. Eventually I fell asleep, stomach growling.

"What the fuck have you done?" A voice screamed out. It was bloodcurdling.

I jumped up, eyes wide, heart palpitating. Mama was standing next to the washer and dryer in the hallway, holding up a shirt that was a hideous orange color. In her other hand was a pair of jeans that looked...splotchy?

The woman stepped towards me. "Why did you put bleach in the laundry?"

"B-because," I stumbled over the coffee table, trying to get away. She began to cry. "Because y-you told me that it was i-important to get stains o-out."

"B-b-b-b," Shannon mocked, her face twisted in a snarl. "You can never do anything right, Aria Marie."

Her arm swung backwards, her face red with rage. I tried to duck out of the way, but-

With an alarmingly sharp gasp of air, I flung myself upwards to the sitting position, my eyes not waiting to adjust to the light before fully opening. The sunlight in my room seared my retinas. My sheets were wet, I smelled like vinegar, and my heart was pounding like an 808 drum at a rave. As my hearing finally focused, I could tell that my phone alarm was blaring.

"Fuck," I panted, switching off the alarm.

I peeled myself out of my bed, making a mental note to wash the sweat-soaked sheets when I get home. With unsteady steps, I found my way to the bathroom and turned on the cold water for the sink. I dunked my head into the cool flow and drank until my teeth ached. While waiting for the shower to reach my desired hellish temperature, I finished my morning routine, never daring to glance in the mirror.

The water pressure paired with the temperature felt like receiving thousands of microscopic paper cuts. I quickly adjusted myself, tossing my head back and allowing a path for the lava to flow. Steam rapidly filled the bathroom despite the ventilation fan trying its damndest to keep humidity out of the air.