Leila's POV
She ran
After a long day of scoping downtown for a job, I needed a rest. Next week was the beginning of summer and let's just say I wouldn't really refer to it as summer for me, seeing as I wanted to catch up with my studies as soon as possible.
I slipped out of my car and slammed the door shut behind me, a soft whistle resonating from my lips as I locked up my car and spun around, only for a scream to escape my lips when my eyes fixated on the person sauntering towards me frantically.
What surprised me more was the outfit she was adorned in. A white blouse tightly fitted her upper body with a navy blue pencil skirt and black heels. Her brown hair was pulled into a neat bun and on her side dangled a black checkered Louis Vuitton bag.
She looked like a businesswoman, unlike the woman I met months ago who appeared as if she just finished a round of crack and needed more money to get some drugs from her sugar daddy or pimp. She was the woman I knew four years ago, the one who stumbled into the house every afternoon with a box of donuts in her hand and bottles of soda for her kids to munch on.
The woman who woke me up every morning and dragged me out of my room to get ready for school. The woman who kissed me goodnight every single night and told me that she'd always be there for me, waiting every morning till I woke up.
The woman I called my mother. Right, that's what she looked like.
And that's who she was.
"Leila! Sweetie, how are you? I thought I'd have to come inside to get you but I saw your car outside and I saw you step out. At first glance, I thought it was someone else because of the hair but. . . It looks okay I guess." She exclaimed excitedly, a wide smile making its way onto her lips.
Sweetie? Did she just call me sweetie!?
Before I could comprehend what was happening, her long arms wrapped around my body in a tight hug and my eyes widened as I stiffened. I somehow managed to bring my hands up and place it between us, shoving her away from me lightly as my lips curved downwards into a scowl.
"What the hell do you want?" I spat. Her brows perked upwards as if she was shocked to have heard the tone in which I spoke to her. She folded her arms over her chest and chuckled humorlessly, "Leila Hart, how dare you speak to your mother this way?"
"Excuse me? I can speak to you however I like, last I checked I didn't have a mother."
Even a deaf person could hear the despair in my voice, the crack in my words, the heartache that I feel whenever I saw her. The last time I did, I ended up on the floor with a bloody wrist and a worried Blake crouching beside me whiles I balled my eyes out. This wasn't gonna happen again, I promised him I wouldn't do it again. So why do I feel like doing it again?
"Listen, I just came here to take you out. Get to know what's been going on in your life. Catch up–"
"Catch up!? Catch up. . .are you–are you okay? There must be something you want from me right? Because the last time I saw you, you were practically begging me for money and you didn't even spend five minutes with your own daughter after hearing I didn't have and you came here to take me out!?"
"Leila! Use your inside voice young lady, and let's not talk about what happened before. The past is in the past." She huffed out angrily, her eyes boring into mine and a sharp intake of breath sent me careering back into my car, a sharp pain shot through my chest as tears pricked my eyes.
Forget about what happened in the past? The past is in the past? Am I hearing this right? I thought that if I made things right with my dad and Kyle everything would be okay, but looking at it now, nothing is okay. Nothing at all.
"G-get away from me," I choked out as tears tumbled down my cheeks. I pushed myself off my car and stumbled away from her. I didn't get far before her long slender hands wrenched me back, a gasp escaping my lips as her nails dug into my skin and the solemn look on her face moments ago was replaced by a harsh glare.
"Now Listen here you, I'm trying to spend some time with you before I leave for London. Now you either take it or leave it like the ungrateful brat you are." She spat venomously, the change in tone slapping me right across my face.
I could feel the anger that I held for the woman boiling beneath my skin, burning through my flesh, threatening to light her on fire as my eyes penetrated through her hand gripping mine. I sucked in another breath, my eyes wide in anger as I peered up at her.
"Fuck you."
And as I expected she reacted quickly and struck a hand at my face, the impact whipping my head to the side as a blinding pain shot through my cheek and down my spine. Pain I felt both physically and metaphorically.
My eyes flickered down to my clasped fist, decorated in my own hot blood, dripping down from my fingertips as it dripped onto the ground like a faucet. Memories, those I suppressed for so long came firing back into my mind as if her hand was a trigger.
"You bitch! You killed him, and you deserve to die the same death he did. I wish you were dead you whore!"
"Leila I–I'm so sorry I–I!"
"You don't deserve to live on this earth you little slut. You did this on purpose, you took him away from me on purpose! You're selfish, it should have been you who got shot that night, you Leila, you!"
"Baby I'm–I didn't mean to hit you I just, just please come with me."
"Oh, you're crying now huh? Do you see how it feels to be hurt? What about a bullet through the head huh? Execution style. . .that's what your brother went through, you liked seeing the bullet seethe through his skin, did you like seeing his blood splatter around you huh? You sick bitch, that should have been you!"
"Leila. . ."
"No, No get away from me," I whimpered softly as I cradled my aching cheek in the palm of my bleeding hand. She took a hesitant step towards me and I flinched away, a heavy feeling suddenly befalling over me.
"Leila–"
A racking sob escaped my lips as I toppled over, my hands outstretched towards her, telling her to halt but she wouldn't listen, instead, she walked closer and closer, her image contorting to the one I knew years ago, the woman with a wine bottle in her hand, smashing it against the wall as I screamed and begged her to stop.
The woman who called me a bitch, a slut. The same person who told me I deserved to die. That's who I saw making their way towards me, a bottle in her hand, a gun in the other. A scowl plastered on her face as she raised the bottle in the air "Stop!" I screeched out, hands flying to my ears as her shouting enveloped my body.
I felt a soft hand on my shoulder, squeezing it softly and her voice, that same voice filled my ears and I shoved her away from me quickly, backing up from her touch as my chest began to cave in on me. "Leila stop this, you're making a scene!"
That bullet deserved to pierce through my head and not my brothers and not that little girl who was innocently walking with her father when I rushed toward them for help. They didn't deserve to die. I did. I deserved to have that bullet pierced through my head. I was the one who deserved to be buried in a coffin. I thought I was okay, I thought patching things up would make things okay but I wasn't.
Not close.
"Leila!"
Without realizing it, my feet took me away, far away from the woman standing in the parking lot, her bag now laying on the ground and her hands tugging roughly at her hair as she watched me run away, run away from where she stood. Still, my vision fooled me and made me believe that perched between her fingertips was a wine bottle, ready to pelt at me. But I didn't stop running.
I ran and ran and ran. Far away from the school, far away from everyone, somewhere I could go where no one would think of looking. I took a sharp turn, turning behind me to see if she was following me but she didn't. Yet still, that didn't stop me from letting my feet guide my body towards an unknown destination.
And when I grew tired, my breathing ragged, cheeks stained with hot sticky tears and blood, hair tousled and feet burning from the excessive pressure of it slamming against the concrete for miles; I stopped in a dark alley. Away from everything. Away from everyone.
I crawled inside, the strong stench of garbage and urine filling my nostrils but I didn't care. Instead, I slumped against the dirty wall and slid down to the floor, pulling my legs towards my chest and burying my face in them. I cried, cried until there were no tears left, cried until the sun finally went down the horizon and I was enveloped in complete silence and darkness.
I cried until I could no longer feel anything. Until darkness consumed my vision and I fell into a deep slumber.
I cried until I no longer felt the pain.