Status: Don't be a silent reader!!

Breaking Free

Family Values

I pound my fist against the front door repeatedly, but as usual there's no answer. Instead, I walk along the side of my house until I reach my mother's bedroom window. Grabbing the crowbar from behind the water heater, I use it to once again, pry open the window. I climb carefully inside, being careful not make a sound and then deliberately slam the window shut.
 
"What the fuck?" my mother groans as she turns around in her bed.
 
She is soaked in the stench of vodka.
 
"What time is it?"
 
"Three o'clock, Ma. Same time I get home every day."
 
I don't try to disguise the tone of annoyance in my voice. She leans over the edge of the bed and heaves at least a litre of vomit.
 
"Clean that up would ya?" she asks before rolling over and pulling the doona back over her head.
 
I walk towards the kitchen and on my way pass my sister, Annie, once again sitting in front of the T.V. covered in a layer of grime. I can smell the remains of last night's nappy still on her.
 
"Hey, An," I say cheerily, "Have you eaten at all today?"
 
She nods.
 
"I made toast!" she replies in that cute baby accent she hasn't yet shaken off.
 
"Woah! You're getting to be a big girl aren't you?"
 
I use my baby voice to cover up the anger I feel towards my mother at this moment. Four years old and Annie's already making her own toast! I go to grab the carpet cleaner and sponge from under the kitchen sink then pause, remembering I'll need a bucket. Walking down the hallway to the laundry, I pass a man emerging from the bathroom. He is naked except for a ratty pair of boxers and a brown pair of socks. I can tell by his slow, swaying pace, that he too, has been drinking. Whether he is a new boyfriend or one of my mother's regular clients, I am unsure.
 
"Hi…" his tone of voice shows his confusion.
 
Obviously, he has no idea who I am.
 
"Hi, I'm Cate," I answer in the friendly tone I have learned to use for all my mother's guests, "Marnie's daughter."
 
"Oh... I thought she only had two kids; Jack and the little one."
 
His speech is slurred and it takes me a moment to figure out what he said.
 
"She mustn't have mentioned me. That's okay, you know now."
 
He nods and continues his stumble down the hall. I return to my task and fill a bucket with warm water. I carry the bucket until I'm standing outside my mother's bedroom door. Taking a deep breath and closing my eyes- I don't fancy the sight of my mother in bed with a stranger- I slowly edge the door open.
 
"Mum? It's Cate. I'm just cleaning up the mess, okay?"
 
I've gotten into the habit of reminding my mum of everything at least once before going ahead with them. The last time I didn't, shit hit the fan.
 

 
I walk into the kitchen and slip pass my mother-who is astonishingly out of bed before six pm- into the pantry. I take out the pasta and spaghetti sauce, then turn to flip on the stove. Cooking is one of my many responsibilities. I kind of feel sorry for Annie, eating the same few meals over and over again. I'm a horrible cook and I gather it's because I never had a mother to teach me. I place a pot of hot water onto the stove and leave it to boil.
 
When I return, five minutes later, my mother is standing in my way, joint in hand. Avoiding her, I stand at the side of the stove and pour half the bag of pasta into the pot. My mother jumps out of her skin at the noise, spins around and accidentally knocks the whole pot of boiling water onto my body. The pain is excruciating. It feels like at least 3 layers of my skin are being melted off. I pull of my shirt and sink into a ball on the kitchen floor. I know my mother doesn't condone crying, but I can't help it. Tears run freely down my face and I sit there until I pass out from the pain.
 
I am unaware of anything until three hours later, when I wake in a white room with a doctor by side.
 
"Where am I?"
 
I sit up in my bed, taking in my surroundings.
 
"The hospital. We got an anonymous call to come pick you up from outside the primary school. By the time we got there, there was no one in sight."
 
So, my mother had dragged me from my house, left me out the front of the school and not even bothered to make sure the ambulance showed up.
 
"I love you too, Ma." I mutter to myself.
 

 
Flipping back to reality, I kneel beside the pile of vomit that has started to soak into the carpet. With an exasperated sigh, I begin to scrub. I am stopped half way through, the soft ding of the doorbell alerting me to my brother's arrival home. Hands shaking, I run to the kitchen and grab a knife from one of the draws.
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Don't be afraid to tell me what you really think. This is my first story..ever..so I'm probably kind of bad.