Trust Issues | e.d

E I G H T Y - F O U R

*Trigger Warning: Talk of Religion*
• Please keep in mind this is just for story purposes. •

"Any news on her?" I look up at the doctor who pulled me outside of the waiting room and shakes her head.

"She's still not able to breathe on her own and if it continues on like this, we worry there will be complications for the child."

My eyes squeeze shut and immediately, I feel a pang of not only pain but guilt as well.

"Can-Can I go see her?" I breathe in hard to avoid crying and she nods.

"Of course, go ahead."

I dread walking to her room, but I can't keep running anymore. I have to face this head on just like everyone else is currently doing.

Upon walking in, I can see that absolutely nothing has changed, physical wise except for the fresh wounds which were starting to heal, turning into either scars or scabs.

I sit here for a while, just looking at the state she's in and it starts to finally sink in.

This is my mom...and she's on the verge of death.

The woman who has made my entire life a living hell.

The woman who has raised her hand at me one too many times.

The woman who blamed me for the misery in her life.

But she was also the woman who defended me and raised hell when she found out what happened to me.

She's a piece of shit, but she was there for me when I desperately needed someone and now it's time that I did the same for her. She didn't deserve my sympathy, but it didn't mean she deserved this either...because frankly, I wouldn't fucking wish what happened to the both of us on anyone.

It lives with you forever, anything could trigger that memory you thought you buried a long time ago, but it doesn't fucking define you. You think your life is over, when in reality...it's just starting. You start discovering and realizing that because of what happened, you can get through anything.

I shut myself out after the incident, tried pushing everything that happened to me that day away; acting like it never happened. Once I realized I needed help, I did everything that was recommended. Going to therapy, talking to friends and family...hell, I even went to church. I won't forget the day I sat in those hard wooden seats crying, praying, talking to god. Simply because that's what everyone told me to do, but even then I questioned everything.

Where was god when I was getting raped?

And now I ask the same thing a year later...

Where was god when my mother was getting beaten and raped?

Maybe it was our punishments for being such shitty people.

I guess we'll find out soon.

Before even realizing what I was about to do, I find myself stumbling over my words.

"I-I forgive you."

It takes me a minute to continue on. I mean, after all, it's not like she's listening.

"But, you're such a piece of shit mom." A smile forms on my face while saying this, but I still continue on.

"You made my life a living hell. It's like...you made it your mission to fuck up my life when I was happy. It didn't matter if I wasn't screwing with yours. I never told anyone else this but when I was with Ethan and now that I'm with Kieran, every time they would raise their hands, I'd flinch. And I blame you for that. They would never dare to lay a finger on me in an ill manner, but you goddamn did."