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What the fuck now?
"I've been meaning to tell you, Emmie. Some things came up and I needed to dip into your USC fund a little bit."
I feel the heat rising to my face and coming out of my ears. I clench my fists and nod for her to continue.
She throws her hands up, exasperated by my short and silent response.
"I needed it for bills honey, no worries. You'll be fine, the market down the road is still hiring and would love your help for the summer, I'm sure!"
Her words were slow and slurred. I maintain my composure, though I'm dying to combust at this given moment.
"How much did you take?"
She looks down and shrugs. Throwing her now empty can of beer in the overflowing trash can, she turns to grab a new one from the fridge. I rush in front of it, forcing her to stop and look at me. What I see, I don't like.
"How much did you take, Mom?"
She rolls her eyes, because she's the one that should be annoyed.
"How. Much. Did. You. Fucking. Take. Mom?"
Her face is flushed and there's a fire in her green eyes. I notice that I'm shaking now, my anger and weariness mixing in the pit of my stomach.
Please, please don't say it, Mom.
She looks up, her chin jutting out in defense.
"All of it."
I realize now that this is the moment when I will commit my first murder.
I can't hold it back, the rage. It's an ugly monster rearing its head and rushing out after twenty years of this bullshit. Of her bullshit.
"WHAT!?"
I push her back against the kitchen wall, slapping at her like a mad woman, knocking down the calendar behind her.
She's defenseless and drunk, a shit opponent to say the least, which works well in my favor because I'm about to kill this bitch. I'm about to beat the life out of my mother because she just confessed to ruining mine. Once. Again.
"Esmeralda May! You're assaulting your own mother!"
She sounds lifeless to me, her voice a void of no emotion. I'm shaking and crying and screaming and slapping. I want to kill her. I want to die. I want it all.
This was my last year. My last trip back home to her. My last stop before I sailed away to a life without her, towards a life with peace.
I should've known it was too good. There's no escaping this monster, this plague of a mother that God punished me with.
I'm about thirty slaps in when we hear a sudden pounding on the front door, stopping both me from hitting and her from screaming.
I release her and she runs to the door, letting me fall to my knees in despair. I am about to lay my head into my hands when I hear her scream again.
Two large men in black suits and sunglasses are in the living room, their hands holding my now unconscious mother.
I back away slowly, my heels tripping over one another. I'm on a rollercoaster of emotions that started with anger and have now led me down the path of fear in its purest form.
The men have a powerful air around them. They practically ooze fear itself and I'm praying to God to both save me and not let me piss myself.
I bolt for the back door, but only make it five steps before something hits my head and everything goes dark.
