7 Minutes ✔

8: Minute Three

"No, she's not. You had your chance to have company over and you kicked her out. What you need to do is go apologize to Angeline," she commanded. To emphasize her point, she lifted her hand and pointed in the direction of my open door.

"What about me? You're supposed to be my mom. You're supposed to side with me, not her," I seethed. My mom wasn't pleased with my response, and she made sure I knew it when she crossed her arms over her chest and narrowed her eyes at me.

"I am not picking sides. I'm just not going to let some girl walk into your life and change you into some monster. What happened to my little girl who was so innocent and kind? Look at you now! You are nothing but selfish and ignorant," Mom argued.

I felt a deep blow to the stomach. The kind of punch that doesn't hurt at first but the longer time passes, the more the pain slowly begins to trickle in. I could see why Father despised us. Mom always knew just how to strike a nerve, and it managed to become a trait I got from her.

"If I'm becoming a monster it's probably because all I hear is madness and anger coming from my parent's mouth as they argue for hours about absolutely nothing!" I yelled. Mom seemed taken aback by my responses. Her eyelids pulled back just for a split second.

"What were you doing listening to our conversations?" Mom asked.

For a second it looked as though she was mad at me. It was as if it were my fault. She was blaming me for the words that slammed through the walls and large pillows that I used to try to muffle the sounds. Mom was looking at me like I wanted to hear the words that made sure to scar me forever. It was my fault.

"You think I want to hear how much you both hate me?" I challenged.

"What are you talking about? We love you. You're our child, Madison, we would do anything in the world to be there for you and protect you," Mom declared.

I scoffed, rolling my eyes. "That's not what I hear at three in the morning."

"You don't understand because you're just a child. You won't get it until you're older and you meet someone you love and have a family with."

As if being older suddenly meant they were more aware, she planted an 'ignorant' sticker on my forehead, claiming I would never understand. Truth was, I understood everything from the first time I heard them argue when I was three years old. I was a baby when I saw the disaster that followed something as beautiful as love. I knew that hearing their hate lift their swords and declare war against each other would follow me until the day I died. It was my parents who didn't understand a single thing, and they weren't children. It was my parents who deserved the 'ignorant' sticker because all of their revulsion toward one another was blinding them from the child who took in every word, every response, and their every reaction.

"I guess so," I muttered.

Mom seemed pleased with my response as she nodded her head and began to walk out of my room, believing that I soaked in her every word like a sponge because she would rather be right than hear how her actions made me feel.

"Call Angeline and apologize. You'll regret it if you don't. She's your best friend," Mom stated. I nodded my head, knowing full well that I would never call Angeline after what happened.

Just before she left my room, Mom looked around and finally noticed my empty walls that were no longer full of Angeline's artwork. Realization ran upon her features when she took in the simple fact that I would no longer support Angeline. I would die before I ever befriended her again. She was now an enemy who blocked the path of what was best for me, so I bulldozed her out of the way, no longer caring if she bled or died.