Because of Him

29

All I could hear was the sound of her shaky breaths.

"My mom—" She cut herself off, knowing she would be unable to continue without crying.

Oh no. I felt myself starting to panic, and I was already thinking of the worst case scenarios. "What? What happened?"

There was silence on the other line, and I was beginning to think that maybe she had hung up on me. But then I heard whimpering; the kind of whimpering where you were struggling to keep yourself from letting out a sob.

"Can I come over?" She choked out.

"Yes," I said. "Of course."

She ended the call, and I just stood there, staring down at my phone. It was killing me, not knowing what was going on or what had happened to Faith. I could feel the worry eating my mind away because something really bad had to have happened to make her want to cry. It just wasn't her thing, as she told me once.

I paced around the kitchen as I waited for her to arrive. There was no way I could stay still, knowing something terrible had happened.

I practically ran to the door when I finally heard the doorbell ring. I swung the door open and before I could pull her into my arms, she lifted her head, and I gasped, my hand flying up to my mouth as I looked at her face in horror.

She had a hand print marked on her right cheek. And that alone might have scared me even more, if it weren't for the fact that it was bright red.

"Oh my god." I mumbled into my hand. I quickly stepped to the side, allowing her space to come in. "Here, come in."

She stayed silent as she walked in, and as I closed the door behind her, and as I walked her up the stairs to my room. When I realized she needed an ice pack, I turned to her and said, "Let me go get you an ice pack. Stay here."

I quickly ran down the stairs and took an ice pack from the freezer. I ran back up the stairs, and as I entered my room, I saw that Faith was sitting down on the edge of the bed, looking down at her hands, palms up and facing the ceiling. I walked over to her and sat down beside her, looking at her with sadness in my eyes. I offered her the ice pack and she took it, only to hold it in her lap. She simply stared at it, unmoving. Then her lip started quivering and she bit down on it.

"She came home drunk this morning." She finally said. I knew she was talking about her mother, so I stayed silent, and allowed her to continue. "I guess I was so tired of her coming home like that that I.. I told her that she was a lame excuse for a mother. That she was never there for me, and that I couldn't love her if she continued doing this.

"She got angry, and asked me who I was telling her what to do and how to live her life. She said she hated me, and that I was the biggest mistake of her life. My anger got the best of me and something in me snapped and I told her that I was the one who hated her, and that's when she slapped me."

I watched as her eyes watered and as she lowered her head. That was when she let out the sob that had been wanting to come out for so long now. And she completely fell apart.

Everything she was holding in, all the anger she felt towards her mother, came tumbling out in full force. She was sobbing and crying so hard that it was breaking my heart. I pulled her into me, and allowed her to let everything go. I let her have a good cry because I knew that was exactly what she needed. It was probably a good five minutes until her sobs had calmed down to little sniffles.

"Better?"

She lifted her head from my shoulder and nodded.

"Bettef." She said, sounding congested and groggy. She looked at me and gave me a grateful smile. "Thank you."