Addicted To You; N.S.

sidelines

amara haven

"If you really think you're so much better than me, Amara, why don't you fuck off and leave me alone?"

That's what Nic said to me less than a week ago.

"Unbelievable!" I scoff at the memory.

I stumble into the house, dropping my keys in the process.

"Shit," I mutter, picking the keychain up and shutting the door.

I feel around for the kitchen light but it flicks on before I find it.

Holy shit. I have telekinetic abilities.

"Amara Rose." My mother's stern voice makes me falter.

Okay, maybe not telekinetic abilities.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Amara, getting home at this time of night?" She asks. "And don't you dare lie to me," she adds coldly.

I stifle a giggle, "I was just out."

I drop my keys and bag onto the counter and walk around to the fridge.

"Tell me the truth, right now." Her voice sharpens into a threat that once would have made my heart race with nerves, but now just makes me smirk.

"I did," I shrug, opening the fridge and spotting leftover Pad Thai.

I wonder if she knows how pathetic she sounds when she tries to scare me into doing what she wants.

"What were you 'out' doing?" She asks.

"Drinking," I nod proudly as I put the Pad Thai in the microwave.

"And you're proud of that, Amara?" She questions.

"Obviously, it was a new record," I slur.

"God, you're so flippant, and after everything I do for you," she reprimands.

A beep rings in my ears and I jump, looking around the room, "What was that?"

She stares at me blankly.

"What was that?" I ask again, "Did you hear it?"

She pushes past me and yanks open the microwave, grabbing something and slamming it on the counter in front of me.

"Oh my god! Pad Thai!" I exclaim.

She slams the microwave closed, "See, Amara, I have to do everything for you. You're so useless lately. Well, more than normal."

I roll my eyes as I rifle through the cutlery drawer to find chopsticks.

"You know, you weren't like this before that boy," she sneers.

"Don't even," I laugh out loud.

If only she knew the half of it.

"For once, make this easy for me. Why do you drink so much? You have a perfectly fine life."

I struggle to figure out the chopsticks, "Do I?"

"Compared to some other kids, yes, you should be grateful to have a mum like me," she says.

"Are you sure?" I question.

"God, Amara, enough! I don't understand why you have to make everything so difficult all the time," she huffs.

"I guess I'm just a difficult kid," I roll my eyes.

"Why, Amara? You were never like this when you were younger," she scoffs. "You never would've started drinking if it weren't for him."