The Mess I Made
Chapter One
I set my bookbag on the counter with a sigh, sitting on the counter, and popping a grape in my mouth as Olivia Mom walked in. She threw her keys onto the counter with an exasperated sigh, forehead slightly creasing with worry and stress.
"What's wrong, Mom? Have a bad day at work?" I asked suddenly, crossing my legs underneath me.
She ran a hand through her brunette hair, sighing softly yet again. "Cheyenne, there isn't an easy way for me to say this.."
"Mom, you got fired?" I said, true concern laced in my voice, sliding off of the counter and wrapping my arms around her. Her body shook beside me as she laughed, rubbing my back comfortingly.
"No, sweetheart, they wouldn't fire me."
"Let's not get too cocky here, Mother."
She gave me a pointed look as she pulled away from the embrace, crossing her arms over her chest.
I held my hands up with a cheesey smile. "Alright, alright. Sorry."
"Cheyenne, I really do need you to understand. Can you do that for me?" She asked, her tone becoming more serious than it had been just moments ago.
"Of course, Mom. I always am, aren't I?"
She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on either side of me on the counter. "Cheyenne, I'm serious."
"So am I," I retorted.
"Cheyenne, will you just stop and listen to me?"
I sucked in a deep breath, and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. As if I wasn't doing that ten seconds ago?. "Yes ma'am."
"The case Elliot and I are working on has..reached something I thought it wouldn't. The mother can't take care of her daughter, though Samantha seems to think she can. She's a drug addict, Chey."
"And what does that have to do with the Special Victim's Until exactly?"
"The girl's, Samantha, mother was raped, Cheyenne. You know very well I'm not allowed to disclose that information to you, though," She said accusingly, lips curving into a frown.
"I'm sorry. Look, point to this is..?"
"Cheyenne Elizabeth, I am your mother."
"At least that's what it says on my birth certificate," I said with a sly grin, sliding off of the counter.
"Cheyenne!" She got out frustrated, grabbing my wrist roughly, not one for bullshit. "Samantha's coming here! To live with us!"
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You heard me, Cheyenne. Need I repeat myself?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I heard you, but I can't believe you, Mom. You didn't have to feel for her! She could have been fine without you!"
"She could have died or God knows what else, Cheyenne!"
"So you take her in?" I scoffed, yanking my wrist out of her grasp. "Real nice, Mom. Perfect. Just fucking perfect."
"Cheyenne, don't you fuc-."
Her sentence, of course, was cut off by my slamming and locking my bedroom door. Under no circumstance did I want or need a sibling, much less that of a charity case. I couldn't comprehend everything exactly; what did she expect me to do?
Jump with joy and celebrate that a new member of someone else's family was moving into ours? Uhm, no, thanks. Thoughts swirled in my mind, but of course I hadn't the nerve to spend too much time on any one. I didn't know what I was to do at the moment, and I guess my mother didn't, either.
"What's wrong, Mom? Have a bad day at work?" I asked suddenly, crossing my legs underneath me.
She ran a hand through her brunette hair, sighing softly yet again. "Cheyenne, there isn't an easy way for me to say this.."
"Mom, you got fired?" I said, true concern laced in my voice, sliding off of the counter and wrapping my arms around her. Her body shook beside me as she laughed, rubbing my back comfortingly.
"No, sweetheart, they wouldn't fire me."
"Let's not get too cocky here, Mother."
She gave me a pointed look as she pulled away from the embrace, crossing her arms over her chest.
I held my hands up with a cheesey smile. "Alright, alright. Sorry."
"Cheyenne, I really do need you to understand. Can you do that for me?" She asked, her tone becoming more serious than it had been just moments ago.
"Of course, Mom. I always am, aren't I?"
She rolled her eyes before placing her hands on either side of me on the counter. "Cheyenne, I'm serious."
"So am I," I retorted.
"Cheyenne, will you just stop and listen to me?"
I sucked in a deep breath, and resisted the urge to roll my eyes. As if I wasn't doing that ten seconds ago?. "Yes ma'am."
"The case Elliot and I are working on has..reached something I thought it wouldn't. The mother can't take care of her daughter, though Samantha seems to think she can. She's a drug addict, Chey."
"And what does that have to do with the Special Victim's Until exactly?"
"The girl's, Samantha, mother was raped, Cheyenne. You know very well I'm not allowed to disclose that information to you, though," She said accusingly, lips curving into a frown.
"I'm sorry. Look, point to this is..?"
"Cheyenne Elizabeth, I am your mother."
"At least that's what it says on my birth certificate," I said with a sly grin, sliding off of the counter.
"Cheyenne!" She got out frustrated, grabbing my wrist roughly, not one for bullshit. "Samantha's coming here! To live with us!"
"What?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.
"You heard me, Cheyenne. Need I repeat myself?"
"No, I'm pretty sure I heard you, but I can't believe you, Mom. You didn't have to feel for her! She could have been fine without you!"
"She could have died or God knows what else, Cheyenne!"
"So you take her in?" I scoffed, yanking my wrist out of her grasp. "Real nice, Mom. Perfect. Just fucking perfect."
"Cheyenne, don't you fuc-."
Her sentence, of course, was cut off by my slamming and locking my bedroom door. Under no circumstance did I want or need a sibling, much less that of a charity case. I couldn't comprehend everything exactly; what did she expect me to do?
Jump with joy and celebrate that a new member of someone else's family was moving into ours? Uhm, no, thanks. Thoughts swirled in my mind, but of course I hadn't the nerve to spend too much time on any one. I didn't know what I was to do at the moment, and I guess my mother didn't, either.
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