The smell is putrid. The sight wanting to make me gag myself. It’s only another thing I’ll never get used to.
She continues to vomit until all that’s left are dry heaves. As she’s hunched over I can see her spine sticking out from her back. Her shoulder blades digging against her skin. All the bruises that mare her skin in nasty colors.
How did she let herself fall this far?
Once upon a time she was such a beautiful woman. The most gorgeous I have ever laid my eyes upon. When I was little, before dad died, when things were good, I wanted to look exactly like her when I grew up.
And I do. I look exactly like my mother before the drugs took over her life.
If only she could see that when she looks at me. To want to go back to the person she was before instead of hating the sight of me because I’m everything she once was.
Which is why when she finally looks at me through her thin greasy unkept hair do I brace myself for what’s to come.
Her lips twist angrily, her eyes throwing daggers at me. “You stupid bitch!” She spits in rage. I back away from her just in time as she swings her arm out. “Why couldn’t you just let me die?! Why do you have to ruin everything?!”
She lunges at me and this time she doesn’t miss. My head hits the edge of the wooden coffee table before she tackles me to the ground. Taking my hair in her fists she begins to slam my head against the ground.
Feeling like my brain is being rattled inside my head it takes me a moment to get my whits about.
Not wanting to hurt her but knowing I have to I thrust my hips upwards and with my hands on her shoulders throw her off me. She lands with a cry that sounds more like a scream.
Head heavy and my vision a bit blurred I begin to raise myself up from the floor.
Deep breaths, Grace. Deep breaths and everything will be okay.
In the middle of taking a deep breath mom comes for me again. Except this time she’s attacking me with her hands. Her nails scratching my skin leaving behind shallow cuts.
She reaches as much exposed skin as she can. My chest, my arms and even manages to get a scratch on my cheek before I forcefully push her away.
I quickly get up before she can do more damage. “Mom, stop. It’s me. It’s your daughter, Gracie Mae.”
Her eyes glare at me. “My daughter, my fucking bitch of a daughter.”
They say words can’t hurt you but I’m screamingwith pain on the inside. Her words hurt far more than any physical assault.
I swallow pass the ever so large lump in my throat. My hand curling into a fist by my side. “You know what today is. You know today is the one day when you can’t use.”
“I don’t have to do shit. And I don’t have to fucking listen to you,” she spews.
I keep my voice calm although I feel anything but. “Mom-”
“Stop! Stop fucking calling me that! I hate it!”
Don’t break, don’t break, don’t break.
“Vivian-” She scoffs. “What would you like me to call you?”
She narrows her eyes at me. Those glassy dilated drug filled eyes. “I don’t want you to call me anything. I don’t want you to talk at all.” I go to open my mouth and she silences me as she continues, her voice rising with anger, “I don’t want you around. I don’t want your brother here. I want you gone! I want you both gone!”
That rusty bloody blade of hers she pierces again in my heart.
“Your son, Connor,” I acknowledge him as who he is and she snarls. “Your baby boy. Your only son.”
“Don’t say his name around me,” she snaps and I flinch.
“How dare you?” I seethe.
“Give me a break, Grace,” she says my name with disgust.
