Pause (Published)

Chapter 7: Sweet Ride

"Yeah, well, I sure as hell didn't forget where I was," he mutters, annoyed at our little female rants.

I laugh at his expense. He's always around to hear our debates - from girl stuff to boys to family to even him. 

"Aww, Mas. I do enjoy tormenting you," I ruffle his hair with both my hands.

"I think I've heard enough girl issues to last me a whole lifetime," he groans, exasperated with the both of us and our arguing.

I ignore him and turn to Bells, "I better head home and get ready."

Bell shakes her head at me teasingly, "Great. Now I have to babysit you at the party."

I huff, "Pshaw! I don't need no babysitter. I am a mature adult." 

Mason laughs aloud at my words as if what I said is unbelievable.

I shoot him a harsh glare in turn. He quickly shuts up before bursting out into laughter yet again.

"Oh, and Maggot, just a heads up, someday I'm going to successfully kill you and get away with it," I threaten him for the fun of it.

He pulls a face and mutters to himself, "I am spending way too much time around chicks." 

Bell and I fall into hysterical fits of giggles as a result. 

He shoots me daggers with his eyes, "You're so evil."

"But you so love it," I wink, before hugging Bells goodbye.

*~*~*~**~*~*~*

"I am your mother, Aqueela, and I am telling you that you're not attending that party. Do I make myself clear?" my stepmother asks with a slur, smoking intently on her cigarette.

She's been drinking...

I breathe in sharply, afraid. 

I take in the kitchen's plain white walls and the mess scattered about. The tiles are so filthy that it seems as if the empty room hasn't been cleaned in years. There are stains all over the wooden counters and the sight is sickening.

I hate being home.

"Besides, Aqueela, you have chores to still do. This house is a pigsty," she reprimands me as if she has the right.

I clean after her every day.

"Then you should get cleaning," I say impulsively, "mom," I end bitterly.

I can tolerate her when she's sober, but not when she's like this - not when she's wasted and high.

Slap!

My head turns to the side on impact.

I wince and reach up to touch my cheek. 

I shake my head at her, hurt.

"Don't you dare talk to me like that ever again! I am your mother! You are ungrateful," she shouts and steps forward. 

My fear comes crawling in as I flinch back on instinct, trembling.

I've done it now. 

"I-I'm sorry," I stutter, my words stumbling out of me in waves of panic.

"You damn right you are," she says scornfully as she grabs me by my wrist and slowly takes the cigarette out of her mouth. "No wonder your father left us."

I try to move back, but her nails dig deep into my forearm to keep me in place. 

"Backchatting gets you punishment. You should know that by now," she warns, a fire behind her eyes.