Chapter 11

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Frustration and anger poured through every inch of my body as I sent my foot soaring and colliding with the busted refrigerator once again.

My attention was propelled from the damned refrigerator to behind me as an annoyed groan hit my ears and a voice echoed throughout the room that sent my nerves into hyper drive.

"Katerina, stop banging on the fridge! You're going to break it."

"It's already broken," I grumbled out as I swiveled on my feet, landing my eyes on my mothers unkempt figure.

"What are you doing up so early anyways? You're never up this early," I stated bitterly as I maneuvered around her and went to grab my phone sitting on the counter.

"Well, when you decide to beat up our fridge at eight in the morning, it's kind of hard to sleep," my mother grumbled as she flopped herself down on the couch, tugging a raggedy blanket over top of herself.

Annoyance overtook every particle inhabited inside my body.

Our fridge was busted, meaning no food in it would be salvageable and money basically shot down the drain, and my dear ol mother decided that the appropriate response would be to go to sleep.

And some people wonder why I have anger issues...

"I need the money back I gave you on Sunday for groceries to pay someone to come out and fix the fridge."

My mother was silent as my demand became known. Seconds ticked by and she still hadn't responded. She wasn't asleep though; there was obviously another reason as to her sudden silence.

"Kathy, where's the money?" A chill of unease crept through my bones at how deadly serious my tone became as my words stuck out through the room.

"You know I hate it when you call me that," she groaned as she revealed her tired, irritated face to me from under the covers. "It's mom. I'm your mother so you should call me that. It's disrespectful otherwise."

My brow arched in bemusement.

"The fact that you still think I have any respect for you left shows just how little you actually know about your own daughter."

She rolled her eyes so hastily, I almost missed the flicker of hurt that barreled through her stare before she shook her head and snuggled herself back into the couch.

This conversation was far from over though.

"I need that money. Where is it?"


Feeling the strands of my anger beginning to fray, I stalked over to the couch and without pause, ripped the blanket off of my mother.

She shrieked and sent a vile glare my way, her large, brown eyes fixing up and onto mine.

I spoke before she ever got the chance.

"The money," I bit out, dragging my sentence out as the preempted rage I could feel welling inside of me threatened to spill over. "Where is it?"

For a moment, she challenged me. Her eyes pinned on mine and unwavering for all of three seconds before she broke and confirmed my fears.

"It's gone."


"I spent it..."

"Well, there's no new groceries in the house so is there a brand new, fucking car somewhere that I just haven't noticed?" I asked with bitter sarcasm dripping from my voice.

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