A Step to Love
Reflection
I called my mother after the incident, and her angry voice asked me to take a ride with Brittany and Alex. She said she needed to sort some things out with me.
I wondered what that would be.
I definitely did not look forward to seeing Brit’s brother, especially after the way he looked at me back in the classroom.
The car stopped in front of my house some minutes later, and I rushed toward the door. My heart was racing as I placed my hand on the doorknob. I began sweating and as I wondered and searched for something bad I had done. I didn’t remember doing anything bad to her.
I quickly turned the knob around and got inside, pushing the negativity along with it. My mom was sitting on a corner of the loveseat I looked at the clock and it read 7:37pm. I slowly started walking, but then I stopped.
“Lilly.”
“Mom, you look like a vampire. Turns this on.” I walked toward the switch of the living room and turned the light on.
“Don’t use an attitude with me,” she said, raising her voice and getting up from the sofa.
I backed away, startled. I felt my back hit the wall gently. “I didn’t use any att—”
“Shut it!”
“Mom, what the hell is your problem?” I asked feeling a sudden relief in my chest.
“What is my problem?” She crossed her arms. “My problem is you, Lillian. You’re an irresponsible, bratty, little sixteen year-old that has no respect for her mother and always wants to do whatever the hell she wan—”
“What are you talking about?” My eyes spotted a bottle on the living room's table. "Have you been drinking?" I asked, whispering. "Mom, you never drink, what's wrong?"
“You never clean the house, you always forget to take out the trash—the only chore you have—and I have to always work like your little slave. You also talk back a lot and never seem to—”
“Hey, you’re being a little unfair. I suggest you simply calm down and step away from the bottle."
“Un—what? How am I unfair?”
“You never treat me like family,” I whispered. “I’m always that ‘bother’ in your life." I then, sighed. Can't believe I was actually getting that stuff out of my chest after so many years. "You are always yelling at me—like now—or-or getting all angry for no reason. You tend to rub the things that I do wrong in my face, but you never notice the good things that I do or at least the ones I get right." I paused. "For example, did you know that I aced three exams this week?”
“I—”
I cut her off, “Yes! You did know, but you didn’t care.”
“That is it,” she interrupted, furious. “Listen to me, Lillian! I am so sick of your attitude towards me.” Her hands went from her tights to her waist and grabbed her belt.
“Mom, put that down, you do—”
But she didn’t listen. She reached up to me as she took the belt with both of her hands and started hitting me. The pain felt massive—like they were ripping little pieces from me—but I couldn’t run away from it.
It would only make it worse.
I fell to the ground, but the pain would not stop even if she did. I heard one last heavy sigh from her as she walked up to her room. I looked down and when I heard the door slam, I felt some water ran down my cheeks.
This was just one of her tantrums. I cried.
After a while, I slowly got up from the floor. I tried several times to stand up, but I felt too weak, so I crawled to my room. Once I reached my bed, I gently got up, still feeling that enormous pain and went to my bathroom. I carefully took off my shirt, revealing several red and pink scratches and bruises.
I undid my zipper and unbuttoned the plastic button that pressed my bladder, letting my jeans touch the ground.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t Lillian’s reflection. It showed the reflection of a broken, hurt and tired girl. She had bags under her eyes with a tint of lilac. Her face was paler—weaker. Her beautiful black and long hair was now messed up and going in different directions instead of all going down. You could almost see her bones. She looked like living dead—she looked awful. I sighed. What was I going to do?
I went toward the bathtub. After setting the water to an acceptable temperature, I got in and closed my eyes.
I wondered what that would be.
I definitely did not look forward to seeing Brit’s brother, especially after the way he looked at me back in the classroom.
The car stopped in front of my house some minutes later, and I rushed toward the door. My heart was racing as I placed my hand on the doorknob. I began sweating and as I wondered and searched for something bad I had done. I didn’t remember doing anything bad to her.
I quickly turned the knob around and got inside, pushing the negativity along with it. My mom was sitting on a corner of the loveseat I looked at the clock and it read 7:37pm. I slowly started walking, but then I stopped.
“Lilly.”
“Mom, you look like a vampire. Turns this on.” I walked toward the switch of the living room and turned the light on.
“Don’t use an attitude with me,” she said, raising her voice and getting up from the sofa.
I backed away, startled. I felt my back hit the wall gently. “I didn’t use any att—”
“Shut it!”
“Mom, what the hell is your problem?” I asked feeling a sudden relief in my chest.
“What is my problem?” She crossed her arms. “My problem is you, Lillian. You’re an irresponsible, bratty, little sixteen year-old that has no respect for her mother and always wants to do whatever the hell she wan—”
“What are you talking about?” My eyes spotted a bottle on the living room's table. "Have you been drinking?" I asked, whispering. "Mom, you never drink, what's wrong?"
“You never clean the house, you always forget to take out the trash—the only chore you have—and I have to always work like your little slave. You also talk back a lot and never seem to—”
“Hey, you’re being a little unfair. I suggest you simply calm down and step away from the bottle."
“Un—what? How am I unfair?”
“You never treat me like family,” I whispered. “I’m always that ‘bother’ in your life." I then, sighed. Can't believe I was actually getting that stuff out of my chest after so many years. "You are always yelling at me—like now—or-or getting all angry for no reason. You tend to rub the things that I do wrong in my face, but you never notice the good things that I do or at least the ones I get right." I paused. "For example, did you know that I aced three exams this week?”
“I—”
I cut her off, “Yes! You did know, but you didn’t care.”
“That is it,” she interrupted, furious. “Listen to me, Lillian! I am so sick of your attitude towards me.” Her hands went from her tights to her waist and grabbed her belt.
“Mom, put that down, you do—”
But she didn’t listen. She reached up to me as she took the belt with both of her hands and started hitting me. The pain felt massive—like they were ripping little pieces from me—but I couldn’t run away from it.
It would only make it worse.
I fell to the ground, but the pain would not stop even if she did. I heard one last heavy sigh from her as she walked up to her room. I looked down and when I heard the door slam, I felt some water ran down my cheeks.
This was just one of her tantrums. I cried.
After a while, I slowly got up from the floor. I tried several times to stand up, but I felt too weak, so I crawled to my room. Once I reached my bed, I gently got up, still feeling that enormous pain and went to my bathroom. I carefully took off my shirt, revealing several red and pink scratches and bruises.
I undid my zipper and unbuttoned the plastic button that pressed my bladder, letting my jeans touch the ground.
I took one last look at myself in the mirror. It wasn’t Lillian’s reflection. It showed the reflection of a broken, hurt and tired girl. She had bags under her eyes with a tint of lilac. Her face was paler—weaker. Her beautiful black and long hair was now messed up and going in different directions instead of all going down. You could almost see her bones. She looked like living dead—she looked awful. I sighed. What was I going to do?
I went toward the bathtub. After setting the water to an acceptable temperature, I got in and closed my eyes.