She watches me from the doorway with narrowed eyes. One hand rests stiffly on her hip and an all too familiar scowl graces her lips.
"One thing, Noelle. That's all I've ever asked of you," she says.
I almost laugh. I almost tell her that it's never been that simple. I wish I could somehow make her understand. The sheer desire to make her see what's happening nearly takes my breath away.
I'm losing her.
With this thought in mind I roughly push myself away from the desk. She cringes at the ungodly screech; I barely notice. I slip past her into the dingy bathroom that the three of us have been sharing for the past six months. Disgust shoots through me as I take in the clothes that have lined the floor for weeks and the telltale signs of mold in the corners. The wallpaper is peeling away from the floor in places despite the time I spent trying to keep it glued in place. I gave up on trying to hold things together months ago.
I try not to think about it as I pull a pair of worn denim shorts over my hips. I catch my reflection in the full-length mirror and my expression is one of pain, my gaze shifting to the wall beside the smudged glass. Never again. The memory of deep green eyes haunts my dreams and is brought to life every time I catch sight of my own. And damn, does it hurt.
I notice the package of cigarettes on the counter, a strangled laugh catching in my throat. She's trying to impress him again, and it's little things like this that feel like a stab to my heart. It's little things like this that are slowly taking the woman I once looked up to away from me. A dull rage sweeps through me at the thought, and with one last scornful glare I swing my backpack over my shoulder and head downstairs. My mother is nowhere to be seen.
This is a small relief, though part of me almost wishes she would appear. I want her to see this. I want her to feel something; regret, anger, something. I want her to feel the weight of it the way I've had to.
I pull the front door shut behind me. No one tries to stop me. No one grabs at my arm in panic and tries to make me stay. "I love you," they'd say. "I need you."
No one tries to stop me. I leave, alone.
As I walk down the uneven driveway I make myself three promises.
I will never fall in love and end up like my mother.
I will never become dependent on someone else again.
I will never come back.
And as I step off our property I remember the six year old girl who couldn't wait to go home.