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Welcome to the ninth chapter of 'Details'.
It's a bit dark and I feel a warning is necessary, so here it is:
this chapter contains physical and emotional abuse.
I had a hard time writing this, so I can't wait to get back to happier chapters.
Perhaps Kota will grace us with his presence soon...
Hugs,
0Restart
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Chapter 9: Do the right thing, Sang
Sang's P.O.V.
"Who gave you this?" The slamming of my bedroom door indicated Marie's exit. We were alone; I was alone. I'd known for a few years that Marie wouldn't come to my rescue anymore, but the reminder still stung. Sharp nails dug into my upper arm, wedging deeper into me with every wild yank. I didn't dare look at my mother for fear of being turned to stone.
I should have destroyed the note after I'd read it, but even in hindsight I knew that I wouldn't have been able to do that. I was far too sentimental to get rid of Silas' note—a weakness that would now cost me greatly.
"Look at me!" my mother roared next to my ear, roughly pulling me closer. Gathering my courage, I slowly opened my eyes and gulped. She was livid.
In all the times I'd angered her, I didn't think I'd ever seen her so furious. The skin of her face was blotched around her neck, rapidly reddening. The shifting of her eyes warned me of an outburst, and her deadly glare clued me in to what she wanted me to do.
I had to apologize.
I would, if I were actually sorry.
I'd known that my mother would disapprove of my newfound friendships, but I'd allowed myself to continue them regardless. No matter how guilty I felt for going against her wishes, or how worried I was about the consequences of my actions, I couldn't bring myself to regret the time I spent with them. Victor's fiery eyes and soft smile came to the forefront of my mind, and I realized that perhaps, this time, my mother was wrong.
Unable to tell the lie she was wordlessly demanding with her anger, and too pathetic to question her out loud, I resigned myself to accept whatever punishment she had planned for me.
"What have you done?" she screamed, shaking me again. I couldn't do anything but shake my head in answer. I wanted to say, "nothing," but that would have been a lie. My mother must have seen the silent defiance in my eyes, for she let out a terrifying scream, grabbed my hair with the hand that still held the crumpled note, and pulled hard, sending me flailing to the floor.
I hit the ground on my right side, reacquainting nearly healed bruises with my beige carpet. The impact brought stars to my vision and I groaned loudly, tuning out my mother's screaming. I couldn't help but take a moment to appreciate the carpet. My old room had a wooden floor, and the memories of landing on the hard surface still made me cringe. Hitting the carpet was definitely not painless, but at least it was an improvement.
That's it, Sang. Stay positive. I chuckled humorously to myself without thinking. My mother stopped her rant immediately, focusing her attention back on me. Regretting my distraction instantly, I froze, hoping that she would dismiss the sound.
"You never listen!" she cried. A hard kick landed on my ribs, and I clenched my teeth. Tears began to form in my eyes.
Do not scream, do not scream, do not scream.
Another kick.
Another.
Everything looked blurry as I followed her frantic pacing. My nails hurt as I fisted the short fibers of the carpet. "You horrible whore of a child!"
Her kicks hurt, her hits did too, but the wounds they caused healed over time. I knew that she didn't like me, that she was always disappointed in me, but hearing her voice it so passionately always hurt more than her physical punishments. I always tried to keep from disappointing her, but I only seemed to blunder worse as the years went by.
My mother suddenly stopped pacing and kneeled down beside me, pulling at my hair to get me to look up at her. "Are you sleeping with him?" she asked loudly, drops of spit hitting my face. She looked wild, her brown hair falling out of a bun and her blouse pulled at odd angles.
"No!" I protested, the exertion hurting my side. "I'm not! I wouldn't!" This was one area in which I could answer her honestly. From the tightening of her hand in my hair and the way she pulled back her lips, she didn't believe me.
"You're just like her!" she screamed, jumping up. Another swift kick to my ribs had me panting and groaning. I couldn't focus my eyes through the pain, so I closed them again. I tried to listen to her movements, but the ringing in my ears rendered me half deaf. I could only hope that she was done.
The air shifted and pain exploded in my bare thigh; I snapped my eyes open and screamed in both pain and surprise. My mother stood before me with a leather belt in her hand, red-faced and panting. I'd never seen her look so crazed.
She pulled her arm back and brought the belt buckle down against my thigh again. I'd seen it coming this time, but that didn't lessen the pain. Desperate, I tried to crawl away from her, but she anticipated my movement and stood with one foot on the edge of my nightgown.
"Ungrateful brat! Haven't you done enough?" she spat. Crack! I cried and curled up to cover my thigh, causing my arm to take the fourth hit. I shook my head into the carpet; there was no escaping the pain. "Who gave you the note?"
Crack! The buckle cut into my stomach.
I couldn't answer. I didn't know what answer to give her that would satisfy her. A boy? Silas? A friend of my boss' son? Would that be enough?
Crack! I felt it snap against my ribs.
Crack! The belt hit my arm.
As I turned into the carpet in a subconscious attempt to escape the pain, the buckle cut into my back. I cried helplessly.
Crack!
"Answer me! Who was it? Are you sleeping with your boss?"
Crack!
I sobbed and shook. "No! I'm not! Please stop. I didn't do—"
"Shut up!" she screamed. Crack! "Shut up!"
I stopped crying and froze, terrified of angering her more. I'd tried being silent and she still got mad; I'd answered her and she got even angrier. I had no idea what to do to make it stop.
When no hit came, I took a chance and looked up at my mother. She was breathing heavily, one hand clenching the belt, the other opening and closing at her side rhythmically, as if she was trying to get rid of a cramp in her fingers. The note lay crumpled on the floor.
My lower lip trembled as I tried to hold back another sob. Everything hurt; I didn't think I could take much more. She clenched her teeth together and fisted both hands, shaking her head, before a deep breath escaped her and she relaxed completely. The belt fell to the floor. I lay still, unsure how to take her sudden calm.
I didn't dare hope that it was over.
"You think he's wonderful, don't you? You think that you found someone to take care of you," she said, her voice a lot quieter than it was before. "Is it Mrs. Morgan's son? He's your age, isn't he? We could sue him for sexual harassment—"
"No!" I bit out, unable to keep quiet at the thought of Victor, or any of his friends, getting hurt because of me. My mother frowned at me and took a frustrated step back.
"Sang! Oh, you make me so angry. I'm trying so hard, so hard, to keep you safe. Do you think I like punishing you like this? Why do you have to make it so difficult to care for you?"
I said nothing and stared up at her, confused at her change of tone. She gave me a look that was almost pitying, if it wasn't for the furrowing of her eyebrows. "Oh, Sang," she sighed. "You probably think I'm terrible, getting so angry over a sweet note." She walked around me and sat down heavily on the edge of my bed. I had to turn around to look at her and barely suppressed a whimper at the movement. With a sigh, she shook her head at me.
A metallic smell reached me, and I looked down, noticing the new red stains in the carpet. She was my mother, and it was her prerogative to punish me. My opinions about her methods or motivations were irrelevant. It was a truth I'd accepted long ago.
"Sang, you're being deceived, and I don't know how else to help you. Why don't you ever let me help you?"
Deceived? I frowned at the strange notion. Did she mean Silas? I remembered his silly joke and couldn't help but find the notion of him deceiving me absurd. After knowing them for a few weeks, I was very sure that none of the guys I'd befriended were the evil predators my mother always described. Besides, how would she know what any of them were like? She hadn't even met any of them...
"Come here, Sang," she called, almost sweetly, and patted the bed. I didn't want to get up yet, I wasn't even sure I could, but I feared the consequences of disobeying her too much. She wasn't screaming or hitting or pushing, and I didn't want to do anything to ruin that. I got up slowly, painfully, and crawled my way over to her. With considerable effort I managed to pull myself up to sit on the bed beside my mother. She turned a bit towards me and continued, "Don't you think I've been where you are? So many girls go through this, but I have been trying to spare you from the hurt. You think my punishments hurt, girl? The pain of a heart that has been used and abused and discarded like a dirty napkin is far, far worse."
I looked confusedly up at her. How could Silas, or any of the others, ever hurt me worse than her punishments did? I may not have known them for very long, but I had the strongest impression that they would never intentionally hurt me like that.
"But he would!" my mother exclaimed and grabbed my arm, apparently sensing my doubt. "They all would. Listen to me, Sang, and tell me if this sounds familiar. He was kind to you, even though you didn't expect him to be. He smiled and laughed and offered to help you even when you could have easily managed by yourself. He offered you friendship so easily, you felt like you'd known him for years."
I blinked at her, surprised.
Was what I'd gone through the past weeks really so common? But even if it was, how was anything she'd just said bad? They were nice, and they wanted to be my friends; wasn't that a good thing? My mother shook her head.
"But it's not friendship he wants, Sang. Ask yourself: why does he want to be friends with you; why is he so eager to help you; why does he want to make you happy? Is it because you're so amazing, he can't help but want your friendship?"
I flinched at both her words and the squeeze of her fingers. She had hit on an insecurity I'd been battling with ever since meeting the guys. There was no denying that they kept trying to get to know me better, but I couldn't for the life of me understand why. Was it really so ridiculous to believe that they just wanted to be my friends?
"Perhaps he saw something in you no-one else could see," she said softly, looking into the distance as if she were remembering the exact same thing happening to her. "That's an intoxicating thought, isn't it? Everyone would want to believe in a fantasy like that, Sang, but you need to be realistic. You are not a beauty, nor are you very charming or funny. How would you enchant him so, that he'd go out of his way for you? What could you possibly offer him?"
I shook my head, speechless. I'd known that I was not on the same level as them from the beginning, so my mother's words did not surprise me. Instead, they only hurt; they were far more painful than the cuts and bruises I'd received earlier. They were painful because they rang true.
"Did you approach him first?" she asked, looking me in the eyes. "No, he sought you out, didn't he? They always do. He decided to come to you, but if it's not because he fell in love with you at first sight, then why would he want you?" She took me by the shoulders and shook me, "What does he want?"
The movement hurt, but I was too lost in my thoughts to pay it any mind. Could it be... I really couldn't think of a reason why they'd be friends with me. Why would they spend so much time with me? My mother's words struck a chord with me, but I couldn't get over my conviction that the eight guys I met were inherently good. I couldn't imagine any of them doing anything intentionally hurtful.
"You're an easy mark!" she said, shaking me out of my reverie. "You've never been hurt by a man before. You wouldn't know how to spot their lies even if they announced them with all the fanfare of a circus!"
I winced as my mother hit yet another bullseye. How was it that she managed to pick up on all my insecurities? I was horribly inexperienced, so I could hardly trust my own judgement. For heaven's sake, I'd never even had a friend before.
"Men love to make you feel like you owe them something, like they've gone out of their way for you. Think about it, Sang, what has he really done for you? How much work did he actually put in? I can tell you, even without knowing him, that all his actions are superficial. You feel like he's actually helping you, but it's all smoke and sparkles."
They did help me, I wanted to argue. They made sure that Mrs. Cortez and Mrs. Morgan didn't find out about my involvement in the drug incident.
I paused in my thoughts.
I hated to admit it, but even in that case I couldn't give a good argument. How did they ensure that I wasn't caught? Did they simply not say anything? Was that what they'd meant? I shook my head, brushing aside the sick feeling that had started in my stomach. I shouldn't let my mother's words trick me into doubting them.
I bit my lip and lifted a hand to my head. A headache was starting behind my eyes and I just wanted to stop thinking.
"They're all the same, Sang. They sweet talk you into falling for them, but it's a trap. The moment you give them your heart—bam!—they change their tune. No more smiles, no more laughs, no helpfulness or kindness. They'll use and abuse you; chew you up and spit you out. There will be nothing, nothing, left of you but a mess of mangled regrets."
I didn't want to listen to her. Her words, as hurtful as they were, were hard to ignore or dismiss. I was tired and in pain, and I really didn't want to think about all of this. I didn't think I could bear coming to the conclusion that she may even be right. The tone in her voice was sympathetic, kinder than I'd ever heard from her before. While she may still dislike me, I couldn't help but think that a small part of her was trying to help me; it was a bittersweet realization.
I couldn't stop the tears.
"You are so young; too young to know your own heart," my mother said, lifting a hand to smooth down my hair. I couldn't remember if she'd ever touched me so kindly before. "You may grow to hate me, but I will do what I must to protect you from yourself."
She patted me on the head one more time before standing up. She walked over to the middle of the room, where the note laid, and picked it up. My hands shook as I accepted it from her. "Do the right thing, Sang," she said softly, tilting my chin up with one finger. "Protect yourself from a lifetime of hurt; end it before it can ruin you."
The note felt heavy in my hands. I knew I had no choice. I couldn't keep living in the fantasy I'd created for myself.
If my mother was wrong, if the doubts she inspired were unfounded, I was risking not only myself, but the guys, too. I didn't doubt that she would put a stop to my friendships one way or another and wouldn't think twice about hurting them in the process.
If my mother was right, however...
I looked into her eyes. For years and years I'd listened to her talks of rapists and murderers, but I'd always been able to maintain a small amount of skepticism. If I were honest with myself, I'd admit that I'd always suspected her of making the world out to be a horrible place just to keep Marie and me close. I desperately wanted to have the same distrust in her this time, so that I could continue to enjoy my new friendships without the doubts she attempted to impart.
But, as I stared into her glistening brown eyes, I didn't see the anger or the distaste that she routinely directed at me. Instead, there was pain and a desperate plea that would have brought tears to my eyes had they not already been flowing down my cheeks. She looked terrified, hopeless, and I found my body reacting before my mind caught up.
My hands straightened out the note and without looking down, I ripped it in two, then again, and again, until my lap was covered in small shreds of paper. My mother breathed out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. Then, as if it wasn't the first time she'd ever done it, she smiled at me.
I sat alone in my room until deep into the night, staring blankly at the space she'd occupied.