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As if conjured by my thoughts, she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. Her hair stuck up wildly around her head and there were bags under her eyes. “Give me that!”
My mouth dropped open when she snatched Tristan’s half-eaten plate from him. What kind of mother takes food from her child?
Tristan’s bottom lip began to tremble with the threat of tears.
I stood slowly, glaring at my mom. “Give. That. Back.”
“What?” She gasped, not because she hadn’t heard me, but because she couldn’t believe I had spoken.
“You heard me.”
A piece of egg clung to her bottom lip. Everything about the woman was disgusting—even me, because I was a part of her. Her taint clung to me, and it was something I would never be able to shake.
She set the plate down on the counter, not in front of Tristan.
“This is my house,” she seethed, the stench of her breath threatening to knock me down, “and the food in it belongs to me. I’ll eat whatever the hell I want.”
“I bought that food and I made it,” I pointed to my chest. “You have no right—”
My head snapped to the side with the impact of her hand landing against my cheek. My teeth had bitten down on the sensitive inside of my mouth and I tasted blood.
Tristan began to cry, and when I looked at Ivy her mouth hung open in shock.
“You ungrateful brat!” She screamed at me, hatred filling her eyes.
I wasn’t going to let her think that a slap would silence me anymore. I was done being passive. My mouth filled with blood and I wondered if it was possible to need stitches in your mouth. I really hoped not. “You’ve taken everything from me!” I couldn’t seem to stop shouting. “I’m not your little bitch anymore! I’m not going to sit back and let you rule me! I’m done!”
She seemed shocked at my comeback. I always took her shit and never fought back, but she had done one too many things to me in the past, and I had finally snapped.
She didn’t seem to have a comeback, so she grabbed the plate of food, glaring at me, and marched back into her bedroom. She slammed the door closed hard enough to rattle the whole house.
“Tristan,” I whispered, bending down to take his small face in my hands. His cheeks were wet with tears and I hated that I’d been part of the cause for them. “It’s okay, Tristan.”
“You-you-you,” he hiccupped, “bleedin’.”
I reached up to my mouth and my fingers came away with a slight red mark. It wasn’t bad, but to Tristan it seemed like the end of the world.
“I’m fine,” I assured him.
He shook his head, his sandy hair falling into his eyes. “Not okay. You’re bleedin’.”
I took him into my arms, rocking him back and forth as he cried. No kid should have to witness what went down between my mom and I. Tristan was probably wondering when she was going to hit him and when I’d yell at him. I had to get them out of here. I just had to.
When Tristan’s cries had stopped, I slid my plate towards him. “Here, eat mine.”
He was hesitant at first, but eventually hunger won out and he started eating what was left of my food.
Now that the adrenaline was wearing off my cheek stung and the inside of my mouth was throbbing. I needed some Advil.
I went to the sink and filled a cup with water. I used it to swish out the lingering blood coating my mouth. The day had barely begun, and I already wished it were over.
???
Let’s go to Griffin’s. I’ll pick you up in an hour.
The text was from Trent. A part of me felt like responding to him and telling him that I couldn’t. My cheek and mouth were still sore, and I had a headache that didn’t seem to want to leave—one that not even my prescription medicine could relieve. After I took the kids to school, I’d come back home and shut up in my bedroom with the curtains drawn. I wanted to block out the world. Leave it to Trent to make that impossible.
K.I typed back.
