25 ; Chapter Twenty-Five

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song of the chapter: lust for life by the weeknd and lana del rey

With a pulsing pain in the back of my head, I was sitting at my kitchen table listening to my mother ranting at me about my behaviour. 

    "I can't believe you would behave so disgustingly! In front of everyone as well, God, it'll be all around the town by now," she groaned out.

    "It's funny that you're so concerned about public opinion but haven't once asked me if I'm feeling okay."

    "Why do you do this? Why must everything that happens give you a reason to blame me for being some sort of God-awful parent?" Her voice was getting higher by the second. 

     "Because you are. You're a fucking terrible mother. In fact,  I wouldn't even call you my mom, you're just the woman who pushed me out and hated me for being a younger version of her!" By now I was the one screaming. I wasn't even sure where it came from. I had told myself I would be calm and civilised but within minutes I found myself wanting to commit one of the worst crimes imaginable. 

Killing someone must be a pretty terrible thing to live with, but sometimes it feels like it just might solve all of my problems. Of course that's dependant on choosing the right person and the right time. 

My mother stood up from her seat and slinked menacingly toward me. She bent down and got into my face, her voice dangerously low. "Who do you think you're speaking to? It would do you well to remember that whether you like me or not, I'm still the woman who gave birth to you and so help-me-god," she hissed, "I gave you life and I can end it."

I stood staring at her, I wasn't even surprised she thought that, but it was a different story to hear it. Sometimes it felt like she wished I had never been born. Jake was all she ever needed and wanted. It's okay for a child to be an accident, but there is a difference between an accident and a mistake. But for my ever so organised and planning for all eventualities kind of mother, it seems an accident and a mistake were one in the same. I should never have been born.

     "Really? Why don't you do it then? End it. It's not like it will make you any more of a disgusting human being in my eyes."

She laughed then, "oh you think I mean literally end your life? I was thinking more cut you off, kick you out and see how you survive. Whether you want to admit it or not, you're always going to be the same little spoilt rich girl with spoilt little rich girl problems. If I was you, I'd recognise your position in this life and accept it. Maybe you'll become a trophy wife someday." The malice in her voice had me stepping back. She was offering a new perspective on my behaviour, something I had never dared to consider true. I was not just some spoilt rich girl, I was - I was someone worthy of something. 

Seconds ticked by, neither of us saying anything. I was trying to think of a response, desperately trying but I was too gobsmacked to utter a word. Part of me felt like I should be apologising because maybe she was right. I was caught up in Pandora's death, making my life into some sort of soap opera and someone had picked up on that. They were playing the spoilt little rich girl into behaving in a predictable way. Nothing made sense anymore. I didn't make sense anymore.

My thoughts were flitting to and fro at speeds I could barely comprehend where one began and another ended. Her accusation and Pandora's death did not correlate, but maybe they did. Maybe I was subconsciously feeding off of the drama surrounding her death because I missed the drama she offered, not neccessarily her.

Why should I miss Pandora? She was a horrible person, and that was the long and short of it. Every letter only proved this. Maybe she didn't tell Jack's secret, but she held it against him. She never let him get closure.

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