Love Me Like You Hate Me (Edited Version)

Chapter 20

When the door knob slammed into my stomach, I stumbled back in surprise before instinctively ducking to hide behind the door out of sight. My body moved on it's own, repeating the routine I had learned at far too young an age. Sliding around the door silently, I grabbed my shoes and started to leave quickly. My mother's boyfriend's didn't like me around when they came to call. However, my mother's reaction wasn't what I was expecting and I faltered in my steps, only halfway out the door.

"What are you doing here, Rich?" my mom asked. Normally, when my mother's boyfriend, current or not, showed up to see her, she'd fling herself at them without another thought. Any distraction was a good distraction in her book. But this time she seemed almost annoyed by his presence.

Rich grabbed her wrist and pulled her out of her chair roughly. "You haven't been answering my calls," he said, angry. "It's been almost three months."

My mom pulled away, walking into the kitchen to pour her mug of cold, forgotten coffee in the sink. "I didn't answer because I didn't want to," she said to him with a lift of her chin.

My eyes widened a fraction of an inch. My mom was pushing him away? As proud as I felt in that moment, I felt just as worried. Rich was one of her more violent boyfriends. They were all controlling, sadistic bastards, but he was the only one who had ever left bruises on my mom in visible places. He was almost twice her hight, brooding and muscular to boot. I knew from experience that he could easily wrap a single hand around her throat and strangle her if he wanted. Scared for my mom's safety, I grabbed his arm and pulled him back so I could step between him and my mother. "I think you should leave..." I said.

Finally seeming to notice I was there, he flared his nostrils, glaring down at me. "Excuse me?" he asked. Then he looked up at my mom. "Is this what you've been doing? Raising trash?" He shoved me back when he called me trash.

My mom didn't answer him. He went to move towards her, but I blocked his way. "Please. Just go-" I started to ask him to leave, but I didn't get to finish my sentence as Rich backhanded me across the face. He was much stronger than my natural body weight, so the force of his slap caused me to stumble sideways, hit the breakfast table, and fall to my knees. I sat stunned for a few minutes as my mom came running towards me. 

"Erik! Are you okay?" she asked, cupping my face and looking at me with concern. My cheek stung painfully and I reached up to touch where it burned. As a large red mark began to appear on my face, my mother stood up and turned to Rich in a huff. "Get out of my home or I'm calling the police!" she threatened.

"You can't be serious," he spat, glaring at her. However, when he saw the determination in my mom's face he sent me another disgusted look and said, "Don't think this is over." Then he stomped out of the apartment, slamming the door loudly behind him.

I stared down at the floor, my lips parted in slight shock. Then I lifted my eyes to look at my mom. What I saw only furthered my surprise. A moment ago she had looked like wonder woman, but as I looked at her now, the energy seemed to drain from her face and she began to look frightened. Her hands were shaking and twisting the hem of her shirt in and out of her grasp. She was muttering to herself as she bit into her lip, enough to almost make it bleed.

I got to my feet quickly. "Mom? Are you okay?" I asked, pulling her over to sit down at the table. She wouldn't meet my eyes and continued to mutter. I hurried into the kitchen and grabbed a towel, returning to wipe her sweaty forehead. "Mom, he's gone. You can relax," I said.

She finally turned to look at me, and when she saw the red hand print on my face, her eyes watered and she burst into tears. I had only seen my mother cry over two things: alcohol and the loss of a boyfriend. Both were stupid things to cry about in my opinion, so I'd always fake sympathy until she drank herself to sleep. But now she was crying because of me, because I got hurt. I had no idea what to do. "Please, don't cry," I begged, desperate to make her stop. "I'm fine. See? Totally okay."

She sobbed and laid her head on the table, burying her face in her arms. Her hair was getting soaked and sticking to her face, so I went and grabbed a hair tie from her bedroom dresser. I pulled her hair back, like I had for her so many times before when she was kneeling over the toilet after a long night, and tied it with the hair tie. Anxiously, I rubbed her shoulders, massaging them gently to try and calm her down. "It's really not that bad, mom," I urged. "You don't have to cry over it."

It took a while, but her weeping began to subside and she leaned into my touch. After a few moments of silence, my mother sighed. "I'm sorry, Erik... I'm a sorry excuse for a mother, aren't I?"

I didn't respond to that. It was horrible of me to say, but she wasn't wrong. She had never been there for me or even pretended to be when I was younger. After so many years of neglect you'd think I'd resent her. But even after all this time... she was my mom, and I loved her. She may not deserve it, but she was all I had. My dad was like a stranger to me. Living in his home was as strange as being sent to a foster family had been when I was ten. At least I knew my mother; I grew up with her and I could trust her to be who I knew her to be.

My eyes widened slightly. I could trust her. Of all the people in my life, I could trust my mom with anything. The wheels in my head began spinning. She wasn't particularly good at giving life advice, but she was better than a therapist that will only tell me what she thinks I need to hear. Maybe I could tell her about Zack and ask her for advice. She might actually listen to me in a way no one else has.

I was so caught up in my thoughts, I didn't realize I had stopped massaging my mom's shoulders. My mom seemed to notice my sudden change in attitude and looked up at me over her shoulder. "Honey?" she asked.

I snapped back to reality and looked down at her, blinking in surprise. She was looking at me pensively, her eyes filled with concern. Immediately, my thoughts dissolved into dust. What was I thinking? I couldn't tell my mom about Zack. She had so much to worry about in her life already. She wouldn't understand. She hardly understood my english homework the one time she tried to help me, she wouldn't be able to understand something as complicated as what was happening between Zack and I. No, this was better left to myself.

"Sorry," I said, brushing off my previous thoughts. I faked a smile as I dropped my hands from her shoulders and stepped back. "Would you excuse me?" I asked. "I'm just gonna go take a walk."

She looked concerned, but nodded. I pulled my shoes on and left in a hurry, eager to find solitude in the bustle of city life. As soon as I was out the door, I took a deep breath, trying to steady my nerves. Careful to hide my face so as not to draw attention to myself, I started making my way down the street. I had to clear my head. I wanted to stop thinking about Zack. It was too much to deal with right now; I came here to get away from that problem. If I didn't find something to distract myself with, I was going to drive myself crazy.

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