Mature. Viewer Discretion is advised.
*The people inside of this work are FACE-CLAIMS. This has no correlation to any IRL individual.*
*This is messy plot. Made when I was a teen. Beware.*
The story of a young woman who finds her style, self worth...
"Another day, another life. Another place, another time. But what am I to do? It's obvious, superfluous." ♫ Song - Unknown.
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My mom had officially lost her mind.
And not in a funny way or a mild way, in a way that made me want to rip my hair out and scream at her for hours on end.
"Mom, you cannot be seriously asking me that! You can't! I am finally becoming the adult you always wanted me to be and you're still mad?! I'm not quitting my fucking job just because you don't like it, that's insane!-"
"No daughter of mine is working at a record store! God, you are just like your father!"
It was fucked up to say, but you'd think getting knocked around by my step-father would've knocked some sense into her somehow, yet there she was, acting the same as before. Like it was all just a bad dream she could forget.
I liked to imagine when she woke up the next morning, like a robot she did a hard factory reset, programming set to: Bitch Mom Mode.
We both knew that going back to our old lifestyle where she controlled me, made her feel in control too. It made her feel safe and enlightened.
But what she hadn't known was that I'd spent nearly a week with the most hardcore asshole on the planet. And I wasn't backing down that time.
I was not going to be a goddamn doormat.
"Oh, I'm like dad, am I?! And why is that such a bad thing, huh?!" I followed her around the kitchen as she scrubbed every inch of the counters like it was her mission from god himself, "I'm finally making my own money just like you always wanted me to!"
"I never forced you to get a job!" My mother raised her voice and pushed past me to wipe down the refrigerator.
"Okay, you know what? You're right, you never forced me to get a job mom, but from day one, from the second I was born you had my life laid out for me and everything I've done academically from the time I was five? Was so I could get a good job! So I could make you proud and now that I am, you don't like it!"
The argument had started when I asked to use her car to drive to work.
And once she found out I'd gotten a job at a record store, she told me no.
With her whole chest, she told me "to walk," knowing that girls were going missing left and right in Chicago.
She acted like me having a "worthless, low-wage job" equated to me having to walk to work-cause I guaranteed, if I had an internship at her stupid real estate agency, she would've handed me the keys.
It wasn't the job she wanted, so she was willing to put my safety at risk.
Some mother she was.
To think I'd taken so many punches for her the previous day, made me sick.
