Murder Mystery - H.S

8

Juliet.

7 years ago

"Do you seriously believe it's alright for me to pick up my daughter from jail dressed as a slut?" She yells as she throws her handbag on the black countertop and turns to face me.

I frowned and crossed my arms over my chest, pulling down on the black dress that fit around my body perfectly. "Answer me, Juliet."

"I'm not dressed like a slut mom," I looked at her, and she laughed, shaking her head.

"Unbelievable. I raised you better than this! Have you not learned anything?"

"You're just upset with me because I didn't murder those cops!" I yelled at her, my throat burning.

"How come you didn't?" The entire house was dark, but a tiny glow from the stove light in the kitchen allowed me to see her face. She was angry; her brow was furrowed, and her jaw was set tight.

Since my mother picked me up from the police station, neither of us felt the need to switch on the light to continue our argument. In response to my lack of response, she raised an eyebrow and smacked her fist across the kitchen counter, grabbing my attention.

I was aware that she was losing patience with me. I was aware that this argument would result in me being disciplined, but I still wanted to defend myself. She would give Zayn praise if it were him.

Sometimes I hate being alone with her.

In times like these, I needed my father by my side but he was away with Zayn for the weekend

"Because no! " I yell back, standing on the opposite side of the counter from her, keeping us apart. "I don't want to murder anyone. What don't you understand? Why can't I just be myself? Do I have to follow every silly little rule you make?"

She burst out laughing. "Who is the boy? And don't you lie to me, young lady."

"Oh my God, mom!" I groaned and ran my hand through my hair and stared at my reflection in the glass window with a sharp breath.

I couldn't see anything outside because it was pitch black. But that didn't stop me from staring out the windows as if there was something to see. It was simply a means of calming my nerves. To soothe how my mother made me feel. I was so angry that I wanted to break things.

I know she wanted that. I knew she wanted me to throw a tantrum so she could punish me cruelly, but I wasn't going to let her. I wasn't going to let her win.

"Turn around and tell me who's the boy."

I turned around and looked her in the eyes. "What boy? There is no fucking boy. " I sighed and rolled my eyes. "I'm going to my room," I announce. She slams her hand against the countertop once more.

"Don't even think about it. You go to your room, and I'll make sure you stay there for a week without food or water. Nothing. " I take a deep breath and raise my head higher.

As thunder strikes once more and heavy rain falls on the concrete floor, The howling wind whistles past my ears from time to time like they are crying for help. I was certain that a thunderstorm was on its way. It was all over the news this week, which is why we decided to do the party today because our 15-year-old brain assumed you wouldn't hear the music.