Running from my past (On Hold) *Editing*

Chapter one

“Please, Eliza, go through what happened that night. Tell me all that your mother said and did, and what you did." Ms. Kimolks, the child services woman asked.

I looked at my father with pleading eyes. 

He nodded to Ms. Kimolks, signaling me to talk.

I sigh in defeat, looking down at my intertwined hands. Tears already threatening to spill out of my eyes.

“Okay." I say.

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I walk in to the front door, setting my book bag down on the floor quietly, not wanting to disturb my mother in whatever it is she's doing.

I walk down the narrow hallway towards the kitchen, careful not to move any of the vodka or beer glasses that clutter the floor.

When I reach the kitchen, I stop in my tracks, staring at the man who was eating cereal from the box.

He was about 6"1 with salt and pepper hair. Maybe he's my mother’s age, 45, maybe 46. And to top it off, he was only in his boxers.

"Well, hello there doll. What’s your name?" he said his voice rough and husky.

Oh my god! I thought, disgusted.

I took a step back only to bump into my mother’s chest.

"Eliza, your home. Why didn't you call?" she asked in her fake caring mother tone, while grabbing my biceps tightly.

I take a sharp breath before I answer.

"I'm terribly sorry mother. I was told to come home early from work because it was a slow day at the store." I answer quietly.

“But I could go back, if that is what you want." I add quickly.

“No. just go to your room, Lizzy-Bear. I'll be up soon to talk to you." she said in a fake sweet voice. I nodded and move around her and run quickly up the stairs, careful to close my door quietly.

Sitting on the edge of my bed in the small room I called heaven, my body was shaking in fear.

What did I do? How did I upset her today? I think. It was only 4:30 in the after-noon.

I could hear banging going on down stairs and some yelling.

After ten minutes of the constant noises, I heard the front door slam close and heavy footsteps coming up the stairs.

Only seconds after does my door bang open and my mother strides in with a dark look covering her beautiful face, her dark brown hair shooting up in different angels and covering her face.

“It’s all your fault." she rasped out.

“What have I done, mother?" I ask. Looking up at her.

 She narrowed her eyes and took two simple glides to stand in front of me.

“What have you done?! How dare you ask that of me!" she yells, her breath smelling fresh of alcohol.

Then, she swiftly move her hand and back handed me across the face so hard, I flew of my bed and landed in a thud on the ground.

A sob had threatened to come out, but I quickly covered it up by putting my hand to me mouth. I look back up at her, still in my sprawled out position on the floor.