There's Nothing In This World She Can Count On

Turning the key in the lock, she could already sense something was wrong. Something just didn’t feel right. She opened the door and cautiously stepped inside. No more than two seconds later, her mother was in her face, the smell of alcohol on her breath.
“It’s about time you got home! I’ve been sitting here starving and I-” the girl didn’t listen to the rest of her mother’s rant. She’d heard it all before. He mother came home like this every other night, hair a mess, clothes falling off, totally trashed. She barked orders at her left and right: cook this! Clean that! In between every order was an insult thrown in: You’re so lazy. Why are you so stupid? It didn’t bother the girl anymore. She did as she was told in the hopes that her mother would pass out on the couch soon and she would be free.
Her current order consisted of making the kitchen look like they didn’t “live like F-ing animals” as her mother put it. She washed the dishes, which mostly consisted of glasses, dirty from alcohol seeing as her mother never cooked. She washed them all by hand because her mother didn’t believe in dishwashers. One of those “when I was young” stories.
She stared out the window as she rinsed the soap suds off a multitude of glasses, watching the summer breeze blow through the lonely tree in their front yard. As she removed her sights from the tree to go back to rinsing, something caught her eye. A shadow, a figure, something. She could have sworn that there was someone there, but as she glanced around, she saw nothing. She was becoming more and more paranoid. She went back to dishwashing, feeling foolish.