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“I think we’ve seen all we need to. She’s a cute kid,” one of the men offered as he walked out of the room. He was the only one who said anything.
Mama’s fingers dug into my shoulders, the harsh bite of her nails pricking me with pain. Her anger was a tangible thing, and I was terrified of what was going to happen once we left here today.
"She’s just nervous!” she practically shouted at the suited men as they filed out one by one. “She can sing, I promise."
But the men just kept walking, their expensive shoes clicking on the tile floor. Mama let go of my shoulders and took a few steps after them, her voice pleading and desperate. I stood there, feeling small and insignificant, like a bug that had been squashed.
The door slammed shut behind them all.
And then there was only silence.
Dark, terrible silence. That felt like the end.
Mama was still, her lips pressed into a thin line, and her face was flushed red. Her whole body was trembling, and her eyes were wet with tears.
She didn’t look at me. But maybe that was worse.
I was the worst daughter in the world.
She didn’t speak for a few long, torturous minutes.
"You ruined everything, you stupid little bitch," she finally whispered, her voice shaking with the fury she was trying to contain. I held in the sob throbbing in my chest—shehatedwhen I cried.
This was a moment where she would have normally been screaming at me. But of course she couldn’t do that here. "Our whole future was in that moment, and you couldn't even sing a simple, stupid song."
She squeezed the bridge of her nose and stared off at the wall, lost in thought. Taking a deep breath, she patted down her still perfect hair.
And then she glanced down at me, like I was a worm, writhing there under the ground beneath her. “I will fix this. And if you disappoint me again…if you fuck it up…I am done with you.”
I shuddered under her gaze, the hate in it soaking into my skin and making my tummy hurt even more than it already was.
She said things like that to me all the time. But right now…it felt like she really meant it.
Mama walked me down the hall, past the harried looking employees whose frantic movements reminded me of bees swarming around a hive like they used to do at grandpa’s old farm when I was really little.
She didn’t speak to me, not while she was frog marching me to the car, not when she threw the door open, not when she tossed me inside like a pile of luggage.
And not when she slammed the door closed, clicking the lock behind her as she stalked off in her high heels.
I sat alone in the car, the cold seeping into my bones as the minutes turned into hours. My breath formed frosty clouds in the frigid air, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shivering uncontrollably. The car was freezing, and it felt like I was never going to be warm again. I didn't dare move though, didn't dare even consider leaving the car. Her anger was already scary and unpredictable…I couldn’t afford to do anything else.
The darkness outside deepened as night fell, and the streetlights cast long, eerie shadows that danced across the windows. I’d always been scared of the dark. Every person that passed the car was a potential murderer or monster. I slapped a hand over my mouth to hold in my whimpers…even though no one was in the car to hear them.
I had no idea how much time passed. I only knew that I had to pee…really really badly. My hands felt numb, and my teeth chattered as I huddled in the backseat.
Finally, when it seemed like an eternity had passed, the car door opened. I looked up, startled, and there she was—dressed in a tight black dress, her lips painted a mean looking red color. Her expression was unreadable, and I couldn't help but feel a pang of fear deep in my chest as she stared down at me.
“Get out,” she hissed, and I stiffly slid out of the car into the even colder night.
I didn’t bother asking where we were going. I’d learned long ago she didn’t like that sort of thing…where it seemed like I was questioning her.
Mama led me down a dimly lit street, and I shivered, still feeling cold all the way into my bones. After a couple of minutes of walking, we arrived at a fancy-looking restaurant, with a sign done in pretty cursive letters. She ushered me inside, the heavy door closing behind us with a soft thud.
Once in the building, she let me go to the bathroom, and then had me sit on a plush leather bench near the entrance before disappearing again, with a stern look thrown over her shoulder that warned me I shouldn’t move. People passing by gave me side glances, and I squirmed uncomfortably on the bench.
I hated people looking at me.
As I stared around, I realized that I was the only child in the place. The lighting was dim, casting long shadows that danced across the walls, and weird, unfamiliar music played softly in the background. All the adults were dressed in fancy clothes, holding drinks in their hands, and talking in hushed conversations.
