When you think about it, mirrors are the only things that never lie. You look how you look, and that's that. But I wish it didn't reflect the massive bruise along my cheekbone. I wish I didn't know how my mom's punch physically affected me.
Foundation and concealer covers up a chunk of it, but the purplish-black is still visible. How was I going to go to work like this? I wouldn't be able to leave my house.
Sighing, I leave the bathroom. My stomach feels sore from the kick my mom had given me last night, and my head is still throbbing.
This morning, I had woken up in my bed. I don't know how I got there, but at least I didn't wake up on the floor like last time momma was mad.
I slowly climb into my fluffy bed, pulling the white covers up as far as they could go without covering my eyes. Then I drag my computer over to me. Since I didn't get to watch Tangled when I got home from work, I suppose I could watch it now.
Before I hit play, I grab my phone from the nightstand. The case is clear and has a bunch of multi-colored flowers on it. I call Big D and let him know that I'm too sick to come into work, faking a cough.
"Aw, shucks," he responds sadly. "Feel better, hun."
The second I hang up, I hit the space bar and Tangled begins playing. Somehow, I thought that once my favorite movie was turned on, my headache would go away. But, no. My head still pounds and my eye feels like it might roll out of my head.
I need candy. Yeah, that's what I need!
I wait until Mother Gothel appears on the screen to shut my computer, then I slip out of my covers. I throw on a big pink sweatshirt and some white sweatpants. I shove my feet into my strawberry slippers.
The makeup on my cheekbone isn't good enough, so I touch it up before leaving my room. My mom would be sober by now, but I'm cautious anyway.
I reach the bottom of the stairs and find her sleeping on the couch, one leg draped over the back. A few empty beers were laying beside her.
Quietly, I grab the bottles and toss them in the garbage. I tip-toe to the garage where my bike awaits me after grabbing my wallet from my bag. Candy isn't too expensive, right?
It's about a 15-minute bike ride to the nearest gas station, which means I'll burn some calories just to stuff my face with them.
Win-win!
The air is warm, but the wind is cold. It nips at my cheeks when I go down the Big Hill. A few people look at me oddly, but I just smile and wave as best I can without losing balance.
Haven't they ever seen a 19 year old girl ride a bike? Geez.
In no time, I'm at the gas station. I chain my bike to the bike rack and skip inside, pretending like nothing on my body is bruised.
"Hi!" I say to the cashier as I hop by. She raises her brow at me, but doesn't comment.
I reach the candy section. Gummy bears, Troli's, Swedish Fish, Airhead Extremes, or Skittles. I narrow it down to Airhead Extremes, Gummy bears, and Troli's. The Airheads and Troli's will make my tongue hurt, although it's worth the pain. And gummy bears are just good. Period.
I can't decide. I grab all three and rush to the Cashier.
Hopefully, I have enough money. If only I would've taken the 80 bucks Mr. Pretty left on the table.
Wait.
What if he goes back to the diner today to give me a prize for not taking the eighty dollars, but I'm not there so then I don't get the eighty dollars, and he never comes back so I can never get the eighty dollars!
The cashier clears her throat. "Um...would you like me to ring those up for you?"
I blink. "Oh, yes please. Sorry."
She scans the three candies, about to stuff them into a plastic bag. "I can just carry those," I offer. "I have this basket on my bike that I used to put..." I trail off when I notice she isn't interested.
The cashier gives me the bags and tells me that my total is $14.07. I mentally pump my fist in the air when I give her all I have: 15 bucks. Almost exact!
She gives me my change and then I'm on my way back to my house. The ride back seems shorter than the ride to the gas station. The same people that gave me odd looks before gave me odd looks again. I wanted to point to my candy. Bet they don't have this deliciousness.
I sneak back upstairs once I make it home, careful to not crinkle the bags. My mom is still asleep on the couch. That means I get to watch Tangled without any disturbances.
I open my computer to find Mother Gothel paused on the screen. With my Troli's open, gummy bears open, and Airhead Extremes open, I hit play.
Oh, how I wish I had a Flynn Rider in my life.
☆☆☆
Four hours later, I'm still in my bed. I don't know what to do today. I probably should have gone into work, but it's too big of a risk with my bruise.
Momma used to never hit me. When dad was around, she hardly ever got mad. But now that he's gone, she blames his disappearance on me. I suppose it is my fault, I wasn't the easiest kid to take care of.
Especially when we are out of money.
My mom made me get the job at Dan's Diner since she lost hers three years ago, which I'm not mad about. I love working there. I get to see Big D, and make milkshakes all day long. It doesn't pay high, but at least it pays.
That's why I've been postponing my move-out. I'm nineteen, I could've moved out a year ago. But then my mom wouldn't be supported financially, and even though she gets mad a lot, I still love her. I have to help her.
I pop my last gummy bear into my mouth, then pat my stomach. Man, I ate a lot of candy. Do I regret it? No, it was delicious. Will I regret it later when I feel like puking? Probably.
Oh, well!
The rest of the day goes by slowly. I take a long, hot shower that feels good on my skin. I use my new rose and honey scented lotion on my newly-shaved legs. There's something about shaving your legs after having an unproductive day that just lightens the mood.
The A.C. in my house is broken, so I decide to not wear my Olaf pajama pants. Instead, I throw on one of my dad's old band tees and some shorts.
I watch a few episodes of Spongebob, because why the heck not? My eyes droop in the middle of an episode. How can I be so tired when I did nothing all day?
The last thing I saw was Squidward looking out the window of his odd-lookin' house, about to yell at Spongebob. Then, I fall asleep.
***
"Momma, look!" I kicked my legs faster on the swing, going higher and higher. "Dada, watch me!"
My dad, his combed brown hair blowing in the wind, smiled at me. "You can almost touch the sky!"
Excitement bubbled in my heart. There was never a day I wasn't happy. As long as me and momma had dada, we were always happy.
He ran behind me, and gave me a big push. I squealed, laughing as I flew forward. He kept pushing me, making me go higher than I thought possible.
My eye caught my mom's gaze, looking at me. I can't tell what was on her face, but she was watching her husband and daughter with a type of joy and love that 5 year old me couldn't decipher.
"Come play, momma!" I yelled out to her.
She didn't hesitate to get on the swing besides mine. Dada moved over to her, pushing her higher and faster like he did to me. She began laughing, smiling so big.
I mean, c'mon! Who doesn't smile on a swingset?
Dada switched between me and momma over and over, until he eventually got tired and sat on the third swing. He looked at me and mom expectantly, then threw his hands in the air when we just stared at him.
"It's my turn to be pushed!"
I jumped out of my swing immediately, rushing to him. Placing my small hands on his back, I put all the strength I had into shoving him forward, but he was too heavy for little ol' me.
"Momma, help," I called out.
She was still swinging, but hopped off to help me push dada. She came over to me, and laid her hands over mine. Her hands were so smooth and soft. Together, we pushed dada forward. He helped by pumping his legs, which almost kicked us each time he pulled them back.
My arms became tired of pushing him, so I sat down in the woodchips. Momma was laughing as she continued pushing dada. I watched her, noted how she was when she was happy, and imagined her never feeling any different. I didn't know why I couldn't stop admiring her. Her long, shiny hair the same color as mine with streaks of blonde. Her bright green eyes. Her smile, which I didn't think could go away.
Oh, how wrong I was.
I wasn't sitting in woodchips anymore. I was sitting in broken glass, laying on the wood flooring of our cold house. Dada was gone. He left. It was my fault, I'm the reason he left me and momma.
She stared down at me, such disgust on her face. Such hatred for her own daughter. Could she ever love me again? Even after I drove dada away?
"I'm.. I'm sorry, momma," I say to her, tears spilling down my cheeks. "I know it's my fault and... and i'm sorry."
She continued staring at me. Her hand twitched at her side. She wanted to hit me again. She wanted to hurt me. She wanted to give me her pain in the only way she knew how to.
And so she did.
And so I let her.
***
☆Authors note☆
This was a pretty short chapter, but the next one will make up for it.
I also realize that this chapter didn't have a lot of action in it, but again, no worries, the next will make up for it...i hope
If you enjoy, please vote and follow.
Thank you for reading<3
Word count: 1810