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Elise clungto the toilet bowl, her head faced down as she violently threw up once more. Her stomach ached in pain, and her throat felt scratchy and hoarse. She sat down on her bathroom floor, her head leaning against the toilet as she slouched. She mentally cursed at herself, furious that she ate that bag of chips. And the many, many bags of chips and various snacks after. She knew it was wrong to scarf them down like that, but it felt so good. Once she started, she couldn't stop.
Elise slowly rose to her feet, her head spinning as she lethargically walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. She stopped when she passed the mirror hanging on the wall. Staring at her reflection, she could see how red and puffy her eyes were, and just how ghostly pale her face was. She felt as though she were looking at the shell of a girl she used to know — the girl she used to be.
The front door suddenly opened, and a voice she recognized as her mother's called out, saying, "Elise? I'm home."
The brunette did not respond, but instead kept staring at her reflection. She heard the sound of her mom's shoes clicking against the kitchen tiles, stopping as she entered the living room. "Elise? Honey, what are you doing?"
Elise turned to her mom, and felt like her head was spinning, again. She felt so light headed, and suddenly she was falling forward.
...
Fluttering her eyes open, Elise realized that she was not in the living room anymore. She was in her bed, and her mom was holding a wet rag to her forehead.
"Elise? What happened? Are you okay? Why was there vomit in the toilet?" Her mom asked, concern contorting her face.
"I threw up," she responded smartly, her voice still hoarse and scratchy.
"Obviously. But, why? Are you hungover?" Her mother said.
"No."
"Are you sure? You didn't take any of my liquor?" The woman persisted, her voice suddenly stern.
"No, mom. I was out," Elise said, her voice becoming lower. "But, you wouldn't know because you were shit-faced last night."
Her mother's eyes widened and her mouth went agape. She looked horrified by what her daughter had said, not expecting her to say something as rude as that. "Elise! Why would you say that?"
"It's the truth," she snarled, her cheeks reddening with anger.
Her mother's surprised expression faltered and became hard and stern. "Elise, I am your mother, and all I ever do is love you! How could you turn on me like that?"
Elise jerked her head back in disbelief, her teeth gritting in aggravation. "That's not the point. The point is that—"
Her mother cut her off, shaking her head in a scolding manner. "No, no, I won't hear it. I've given you everything I have. How could you sit here and say something like that?"
Elise took a few deep breaths, attempting to calm the raging anger inside her. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean it," she said monotony.
Her mother huffed, her face becoming less tense and her blue eyes softening. "Elise, I can never do anything right in your eyes. I'm always wrong."
She shook her head and contorted her features to appear upset. She did this because she knew how her mother worked; she'd turn things around and blame Elise for whatever the problem was, making her believe it was her fault. But it wasn't. More than half of the time it was never Elise's fault. "Mom, you know that's not true. I didn't mean it, it just slipped out. I'm sorry."
Her mother seemed to buy it, a small smile creeping up her lips. Leaning down, she pressed a quick kiss against Elise's forehead. "I'm glad we've settled things." She stood up and walked to the door. As she was leaving, she said, "I'll go make you some soup, sweetie."
When she left the room, Elise turned on her side, her back facing the door. She felt sick to her stomach — but not like she was going to puke again. Closing her eyes, she dreamt of the day she finally turned eighteen and finally escaped out of the hellhole she called home.
