Pantie Rule

23 | Panic

"Omotara? Omotara?"

My eyes slit open. I couldn't see—it was all blurs and greys. I blinked and shifted on the quite comfy surface I was laid on. The smell of coffee sifting into my nose.

"Darling?..."

I hummed and moaned as I regained as I turned and squirmed in my sleepy state of utter unconsciousness. My eyes slowly wound open. I could've sworn right at that moment, I saw my spirit jump out of my body, bidding me farewell for standing in front of me was the woman I feared the most in my life! Her unconventionally pretty face was configured into a worried look that made her all the more pretty, and her glossy lips slashed upwards. Then her mole—the nasty black pimple that refused to go—tugged up with the rest of her skin.

"Mum!" I quickly sat up. Turns out in the process I scattered the white bed spread I laid on.

"Calm down. If I'll kill you it wouldn't be now, darling."

"Mum?..." I murmured, surprised at the sight of her. "W-what are you doing here?" Shit! I still stammered when I spoke to her. She sent fear all through me whenever we met. Well, maybe she didn't send it, but my mother was intimidating, even to me.

Her intelligent face watched me, then she blinked. "As soon as I heard you were in a coma I rushed down to your school. Now no more stupid questions. Just relax and shut up." Her voice was just as I remembered, tough and yet soothing. "What do you want? LaCasera and pancakes? Or should I get some doughnuts and yoghurt. I made rice." There she goes again, dumbfounding you at every word of her statement.

I hesitated. "Doughnuts and yoghurt."

Dammit! Why was she here?!

I had to head down to Martin to find out how we could find the blackmailer and the rapist. I knew how unrealistic it sounds, but I also knew we could try. Try to avenge Fatima, but right now I had to figure out how to evade the discomfort of my mum's presence.

She bent unto her hand bag as her fingers deftly fished into them. "So, there's this boy that came to check on you in school. He said he was your boyfriend," her eyes were still focused on her bag, "he looked really worried," she sent me a short look, "and sat with me for three hours." A nylon surfaced as she looked up fully to me, still with a smile—thank God—and dropped the doughnut on the high stool by the bed.

Did I skip the I-was-burning-with-hellish-anger-and-I-could-feel-it-in-my-chest part? Because it'd be a disaster if I did!

I did?

Someone had said he was my boyfriend?! Shit, who would do that crap? No other bastard than that bastard—Chizutere!

My nose flared and brows creased. I froze when mum saw me. "I'm just inhaliing the scent of the fresh doughnut, it's fresh." I lied.

She nodded. Ah, great escape. She dropped the yoghurt on the stool, and as I stretched my hand to get it she slapped my hand away. I winced.

"To think I'd give you yoghurt on menstruation? That's silly of you."

"How did you know?"

"I have a calendar, you. Girls on menstruation don't take sugary stuff." Who the hell came up with that?

"That boy and I, we talked for hours."

They talked for hours?!