𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐀𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

SIX

Vivianne

"You're home late," my mom commented, her satin bonnet limp on her head, a few twists peeking out from underneath it, covered in some sort of hair lotion. She took up the width of the walkway into the kitchen, chopping some vegetables on the wooden block as she had her robe sleeves shoved up.

"Had to get something for English...how was work today?" I asked tentatively.

"You must want something from me. You never ask me how work is," she scoffed.

"I always do. I just wanted to know if you had a good day or not," I said softly, standing in the doorway.

"You giving me attitude, Vivianne? I worked all day to put food on the table. Of course I didn't have a good day," she snapped at me.

"Sorry."

"Mhm," she said quickly, "and make sure you start coming home earlier- I don't need you outside in them streets with all this shit going on in the world."

I nodded silently, going to my bedroom.

It was always on and off with her. Yell when she's mad and push me to the point of hating myself, then she'd flip the switch and try to be all motherly. Sometime, with no apologies at all, just leaving me to ride her rollercoaster of emotions. I always had to be on my toes, because I've fell off too many times, off of that metaphorical coaster, and I've hurt myself too bad before...really, really bad. If I don't go along with the nonsense and if I let my mind rest on the bad things said or done...that's when I'll start to lose myself.

I closed my door behind me, put my shit by the side of my dresser and got ready for bed. Once I was done, I opened up the book I had gotten from the library, again wishing that the cute stud there had slipped me her number or something.

You ever craved love?

I do...because although I'm told I'm loved.

It never...feels that way.

I woke up the next morning, the book warm from my body heat and some of the pages awkwardly folded from me falling asleep mid page. I straightened them out, closed my book tight, and laid it on my dresser, placing something heavy over it to hopefully get the page's back right.

I went over to my clock to check the time and saw that it was the middle of the night. I was annoyed as shit, but decided this all was meant to be. I'm gonna go have some fun. I tip toed around the house, knowing that my dad was probably home by now and that both of my parents were likely to be fast asleep.

I threw on my black Adidas sweatsuit, and put my passion twists into a bun wrapped along the top of my head. I grabbed my phone and shyly opened my bedroom door. On Instagram yesterday, they said it'd end by 6 am, I still should have some time to enjoy myself since it was only 11 pm.

I balled my father's car keys up in my fist so they wouldn't jingle, slowly inching my way towards the front door in our one story house.

I turned the locks, and closed it behind myself, jumping a little when I saw my mother fast asleep on our porch bench, a dead cigarette in her hands.

I went back inside, and went out the back door. I drove my dad's car from the side of the house where the garage was, out of my mother's viewing range until I pulled out on the curb and drove off.

I made it to the party thirty minutes later; it would've been sooner since it's only at the other end of my neighborhood, but I had gotten lost since I hadn't been that way much. As I parked and got out, I thought about the last time I had been at a party. It was this summer with my ex, when we were still both convinced that we could work shit out. Like she could ever lose her toxic ways.