Mother Dearest...

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Horror  |  House: Booksie Classic
A daughter's day doesn't go as planned...

Submitted: May 18, 2007

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Submitted: May 18, 2007



Oh joy, another day of school, I thought, slamming my hand onto the alarm clock. Throwing my legs off the bed, I gave a stretch.

“Are you up yet?” came mother's curt voice behind my closed door.
She never opened it, not since I was young. She couldn't stand being in the same room as me... not anymore. Not since...

“I asked if you are up!” she repeated.

“Yes, yes, I'm up,” I called out to her. “I heard you the first time.

“Then maybe you should answer me. I wouldn't have to repeat myself. Now get dressed or you're going to be late.”

“I said I'm up!” I yelled.

I hated this part of the day. Mom was always in a rush, she would practically push me out the door. Ever since dad left, she was anxious to have me out of the house. It was as if she couldn't stand being around me anymore. Then again I couldn't blame her. I couldn't stand being around me either.

Here it was, the last month before I graduated from college. I should have stayed at the dorms, but mom wouldn't pay for it. She said she didn't have the money but she could afford to go wherever she wanted for a 'vacation'. I didn't think it was fair.

I climbed out of bed and started rooting through the closet. Pulling out my favorite black jeans and my well worn wolf T-shirt, I quickly got dressed before she started screaming again.

I glanced in the mirror, over my dresser, my face was too pale but I didn't bother with make-up. What was the point? No one would notice me anyway. I brushed my hair and my bangs fell over my eyes. Not bothering to fix it, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door.
I walked downstairs and headed for the kitchen. I couldn't wait until I was able to leave. I just wanted to be out of the house... away from her. Guilt consumed me. I shouldn't feel that way about my mother, but I couldn't help it.

“It's about time you got down here,” my mother said, glaring at me. She stood near the stove, the steel pan in her hand. She was making her breakfast.

She wouldn't make mine, she never did. Ever since I was 13 she made me cook for myself. It was 'To teach me responsibility' she always said. I used to be jealous of my friends because their mothers would do things for them... not mine though. She couldn't be bothered.

“Yeah, sorry. I wasn't in the mood to go to school naked, so I thought I should get dressed first,” I snapped back.

“Don't be smart,” she replied, her face becoming tight with anger.

“Okay, I won't go to school,” I bit at her. I had no idea what I thought I was doing, I just couldn't  seem to stop myself.

Next thing I knew I was flying across the room. The back of my head hurt and my ears were ringing. Raising my hand to the back of my head, I pulled it away quickly when I felt the dampness there. I looked up at my mother from the floor, her eyes had never shown such anger before.

<i>I pushed her too far this time</i>, I thought.

“You little witch,” she spat at me. “How dare you...”

“I'm sorry, I don't know...” I started.

“You don't know... you don't know!” she screamed. “I'll teach you then!”

I watched as she took a step toward me, my eyes lowered to the pan in her hand. Scrambling backward, trying to get away from her, I kept apologizing.

“I'm sorry... I didn't mean to...” I stumbled over my words.

“You're damn right you didn't mean to. You'll behave from now on, won't you?” she leered as she raised the pan over her head. “You'll behave!”

“No-o-o,” I started to say, before the world went dark.

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