07 | alone; wake

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^ song above is Try by Colbie Caillat

warning: y'all may want to prepare tissues again.

oh, and snacks of course, it's a long chapter ;)

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"KAYLEE," MY BODY froze when I heard the cool voice of my mother from behind me.

I was currently hunched over the kitchen island, shoving my breakfast of toast, bacon and eggs down my throat. At the sound of Mum's voice, I had paused with my fork mid-air, which had been making its way into my mouth before I was disrupted.

"Kaylee," she repeated once again as she plopped onto the bar stool opposite me, one hand rubbing her temple while the other held her morning mug of coffee to her lips. Her eyebrows were burrowed in frustration and her eyelids were squeezed tightly together, showing off the movement of her eyes beneath the covers.

I started stuffing food into my mouth again, but now my speed was ten times quicker. Mum and I had always actively avoided each other and this was the first time in... forever since we were last in the same room for more than five minutes. I wasn't keen on ridding the tension that boiled between us because that was how I am; afraid to speak my mind and a silent sufferer.

"I want you to look at me."

I froze mid-chew, unsure whether to follow through her command. When Mum noticed that I wasn't going to do as she asked, her eyes flew open to reveal electric blue orbs burning with frustration. A muscle in her jaw ticked at my defiance and when her lips parted, I knew that things were about to get heated real quick.

"Fine, you don't want to look at me. Fine. But tell me why the hell are you skipping your therapy sessions? I got a call from Dr. Hampshire that you not only skipped one session, but three sessions! Three!" she paused her rant, her nose flaring as her chest heaved, trying to catch her breath. She casted an accusing glare my way, which I felt penetrate through my head even if I wasn't meeting her eyes. "Now, do you have a sound explanation for that?"

I met her with silence as I rushed to get all my breakfast into my stomach, wanting to desperately escape this conversation. She'd rant even more if she figured out that my depression had not left, not even a little bit. She'd accuse me of not trying and being the unworthy disappointment like my father. My stomach churned at her past words that echoed in my head and all of a sudden I felt like puking my guts out.

She grinded her teeth at my lack of response. Her grip of the mug of coffee tightened, causing her knuckles to whiten.

"Do you know how much I pay for this?" she began, her voice rising. "Do you know that I have to pay even when you skip? You're just like your father, not knowing the value of things before fucking it up. Do you know how much stress I'm under, trying to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table?

"And here you are, telling me that you're depressed. If anybody in this house gets to be depressed, it's me. I'm the one trying to keep us alive, and you're just lazing your days away while your grades continue to drop. F! F for nearly all your subjects! If you aren't disappointed in yourself, then I am. Now tell me what the fuck you need to be depressed for, because you're the one who is telling me that I did not raise you right."

I bit down harshly on my bottom until it bled a coppery taste onto my tongue. Tears prickled my eyes as I struggled to keep from breaking down and my whole body stiffened as the voices once again returned to haunt me.

You're not good enough.

No.

Look at you, always causing troubles.

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