Pure Pain, Excruciating Love

Chapter 2

"You can't keep doing this," I heard him yell with sadness, anger and desperation.

"I can do whatever the hell I want," she yelled back.

"You seriously think this is gonna do you any good? Do you really think this will benefit you?" He was trying his many methods, but I knew she won't crack.

"I don't care. Don't come treating me like one of the psychos you help," she stammered, and I heard the pouring of liquid into a cup.

"For god's sake. You're killing yourself, leave the damn alcohol," he was furiously yelling now.

"Why the hell should I? You drink, why can't I? Leave me the fuck alone."

My ear drums were weak by now.

They didn't know I was here, behind the wall, right around the corner of the kitchen. They think I'm in my room, finishing off homework with my speakers in my ears like always. But I never did that. I always hear every single argument, every single fight, I was used to it although it still hurt.

"I drink a glass a night. I don't empty a freaking bottle in the damn morning," he argued, trying to calm down.

"Leave me alone," she stammered.

"I can't leave you alone. I can't sit and watch you kill yourself," he stated.

"I'm just drinking for fuck's sake! I want to, I like it, I need it," she screeched.

"Well I don't want you to! Your daughter doesn't want you to. You really think we can sit and watch you act like this?" He bellowed.

"I don't fucking care, you got me into this, it's your fault. You have her and she has you, so I don't see how I'm in the middle," she yelled back.

"You're her mother!" His voice might've shaken the walls and ground by now. "Why are you doing this? You are her mother, be there for her, be there for us. What happened to the woman who was progressing? Where did she go?" His voice was sad, it was ripping at my heart and clawing my insides.

"She's gone, she fucking woke up the moment she stepped into this life. The moment she had a fucking family."

     I woke up with a start, my heart was beating fast, my chest was heaving, my body was soaked in sweat, and my eyes were heavy from my tears. It was one of the worst dreams, one of the worst memories. It was the day I found out the true person my mom is, and it was the time I knew I lost her. Glancing at my phone which was next to my pillow, I noticed it was six in the morning, which means I had to take a shower and be ready for school. So, getting out of bed, I tiptoed to my bedroom door and made sure it was locked. With that checked out, I grabbed a towel, black shorts, striped red and white shirt, some underwear and entered my bathroom, locking the door twice.

Gazing into the mirror, I winced as I stared at the reflection. A bruised, pink cheek, red puffy eyes, messy hair, and a deep cut at the forehead. It wasn't new to me, but I never get used to it. How can you get used to looking yourself in the mirror and find a bruised and hurt reflection looking back at you? You can't, because each time you stare, you see the real and true feelings in the reflection's face and eyes, and you can't stop the memories or the feeling of hopelessness seeping through. Ignoring the damn reflection, I hopped into the shower with the faucet spraying warm water all over me. It felt relaxing, but not to the extent of fully putting me to peace.

Today was the first day of school, and I really didn't have the energy to stand up for myself if any one tries the old antics they're so stupidly trying. I was tired, internally and physically. My mind kept wandering back to the books girl, Anna, and those hazel, almost yellow eyes. Would I see them today? I hope not. I'm really not up for being questioned about the bruises and the cut.