End Of Passion Play - {James Hetfield/Metallica}

Chapter 28 | 'Til the End of Time

"Who do you like better? Me or your dad?" I asked Blair, late at night, drunk.

"I don't know, mom, I like you both the same." she sighed.

"You know you can be honest, right.".

She turned towards the wall, closing her eyes. "I'm tired. I wanna go to sleep." she mumbled.

"Fine.". I went to the kitchen and poured myself some whiskey. I was angry that I was still alive; I just wanted to be dead.

I hated that feeling, so I tried to numb it with alcohol.

As I sat at the island in the dark kitchen by myself, all I could think about was how much I wished I wasn't there. I hated myself for becoming what I feared becoming; my mom.

A memory flashed through my mind of when I was fifteen years old; not long before my mom left me and my dad.

Flashback

I sat in front of the record player, taking Black Sabbath's Master of Reality out of the album sleeve. I put the record on and got the needle into the first groove.

"This, THIS, is super boring to me." my mom complained.

I let out a deep sigh and dug through the box of records beside me. I came across the self titled Clash album and put that on the turntable instead. The Clash had been one band that me and my mom had been able to bond over, and music wasn't something we typically bonded over.

"You like this song, don't you?" I asked as Janie Jones started playing.

"I've heard it so many times, I'd rather not hear it." my mom drunkenly slurred.

I rolled my eyes, placing the needle onto the second song, which, of course, my mom didn't want to hear. She didn't want to hear the third one, or the fourth one, either.

"Let me pick something to listen to, Sarah." she said, getting annoyed.

"Okay, okay, hang on!" I replied, looking through the records, trying to find something we would both like.

"Sarah! Move!" she said, placing her hands on my shoulders and trying to shove me. "Move! MOVE! FUCKING MOVE!".

I turned my head to look at her. "Maybe I'd move if you asked me nicely." I told her, trying to keep my cool.

"MOVE! MOVE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!".

I took my record off of the turntable and rose to my feet. I stormed off to my bedroom and slammed the door as hard as I could.

"Oh, come on, Sarah, don't get all bitchy!" my mom yelled from the living room.

Bitchy? I thought. No, you're the one who's bitchy.

"SARAH! COME BACK HERE!" my mom shouted.

I opened my door a creak. "What?!" I yelled.

"Come here!".

"No! What is it?!".

"SARAH GET YOUR ASS OUT HERE RIGHT FUCKING NOW!".

Reluctantly, I went out to the living room. My mom glared at me and patted the seat on the couch beside her. "Come here." she told me.

"No, I'm tired, and I want to go to sleep." I whined, only saying that because I wanted to get away from her.

"Get your fucking ass over here right now!".