California's POV
"Are you hungry?" My mom walked into the kitchen with nothing but a robe on.
"Not really." I breathily answered.
"Are you doing okay?" She asked.
"I don't know, two of the most important people in my life are dead now." The words left my mouth before I could filter them.
"Honey- Aaron's been gone for so long now."
"How does that make anything different?" I raised my voice getting up from my chair.
"Would you listen to me-"
"No- you're telling me that in a year dad will be nothing but a memory to you?" I scoffed leaving the kitchen.
"Unbelievable." I whispered walking up the staircase.
"All I'm saying is that you have a boyfriend who loves you and doesn't deserve to be pushed away right now." She followed me.
"My father just died!" I yelled down at her.
"So let him help you, nobody says you have to go through it alone." She was surprisingly calm.
"I can't do that." I shook my head.
"Maybe that's why you feel the need to write to your dead boyfriend." Her words stung like hell.
"You went through my stuff?" I hissed sucking on teeth.
"I was worried about you-"
"You have no right!" I screamed trudging up the steps before slamming my door.
"Open the door," My mothers voice remained the same.
"Who do you think you are?" I shouted through the closed door.
"Your mother, now open the door."
"My mother would never go through my personal stuff." I held the journal in my hand backing away from the door.
"Open the fucking door!" She finally raised her voice banging on my door.
"Mom- stop!" I croaked as her temperature rose.
"You better open this god damn door California-" Her words were sharp.
It was like flipping a switch, one minute she was my mother and the next she was trying to kill me.
Help. I texted Jack.
"What did I say!" She screamed putting her arm through my door.
I watched her fist go right through the wooden door searching for the nob on my side.
I stood up from my knees reaching for the pair of scissors on my desk.
Dropping the journal, I held the plastic handled scissors in between both of my trembling hands.
She fumbled her way into my room pushing the static like hair on the top of her head back behind her ears.
"Please-" I begged raising my hands watching the scissors jerk uncontrollably within my fingers.
"You don't listen." She walked towards me.
"I will, I promise." I backed up into my wall.
"You're pathetic." The words rolled off her tongue.
I didn't know the person that was staring back at me, but she knew me, and she intended to kill me.
"Give it up." She knocked the scissors out of my finger tips grasp.
