"I'm better now."
"For now."
Those two words I hated hearing.
"You need to be careful," she said. "You need to watch out for yourself."
"You think I don't know that?"
"The last thing your father and I want is for you to get hurt."
"I'm not a little kid anymore," I told her. "I can make my own decisions."
"You're still living under our roof."
"Because you won't let me leave!"
"I don't want you seeing this boy," she said, firm and resolute.
Anger began to simmer in my chest.
"You don't get to decide how I live my life," I told her.
"Yes, I do. I'm your mother," she said, voice raising to a higher pitch.
"You don't get to use that excuse. I'm not a little girl. I'm not made of glass. I'm an adult."
She narrowed her eyes at me, face turning red.
"Adults don't make rash and stupid decisions like this," she said.
I couldn't hold in it in anymore.
"Wanting to date someone isn't stupid!" I burst out.
"You're not like everyone else, Becca," she said, slamming her palms against the table, making it shake. "You can't just do whatever the hell you want!"
I pushed back in my chair, screeching it against the tiled floor, and stormed over to my apartment door.
"Watch me."
