𝗕𝗨𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚 𝗟𝗢𝗩𝗘

𝟰𝟰. 𝗣𝗶𝗻𝗸 𝗹𝗮𝗱𝘆

Arriving back home alone, to the silence of these four walls and a mother who's only concern is keeping her children alive, was more depressing in the flesh than it could ever sound on paper.

As usual, her eyes were glazed in a thin layer of gloss, indicating her inebriated state. I'm so used to finding those big blue eyes with a shiny coat over them that I've begun to wonder whether it's normal; a natural part of her instead of a result of the alcohol she relies on to stay sane, happy, blah blah blah.

"Nathaniel! You're back." She slurs, dropping the controller on the wooden floor as she ascends the sofa to wrap me in the scent of whiskey and mint. I reply, embracing her how I have to until she sobers up- whenever that will be.

"Where's the girl?" She asks, wobbling towards the living room door, probably expecting to find a brunette with killer legs and perfect sized tits staring back at her but she won't find that, not here and not for miles.

Once again I'm reminded of her absence, reminded that she's still not herself but that's totally ok, because as long as she's working to get there, l'll be waiting right by her side.

"She's decided to stay in London for a little while longer." My clarification receives a hum of realization followed by a sigh. As if she was relying on Beau to make her smile again, because I've realized that's all she does -Beau I mean- she might be fighting demons, life (call it what you will) but she almost never shows that thanks to her vibrant personality and compassion.

Her vulnerability has been disguised as strength, just like her pain as happiness, for so long that no one notices anymore. It killed me when she told me how hard she used to wish someone would be able to see that she wasn't ok, because that's all it would've taken for her to open up.

She was just too afraid to be the one to admit it but I don't blame her, it's daunting. Sitting somebody down to tell them all the fucked up thoughts going around in your head, to admit to all the things you've been doing to yourself never mind the things you wish you could. I've been lucky enough to never have to experience that, because despite my life not being all rainbows and unicorns it's picture perfect in comparison to that girls.

Everytime I think about the things she's been through, I get the urge to configure a plan to destroy the world and every last molecule in it. She didn't deserve any of her pain, and although a lot has been stored away in her past as trauma to help her forget, I know l'll never forgive the world for cutting into my diamond just to get a piece for itself.

"Can we talk about something?" I call out to my mother who's wondered off to the kitchen, and I pray it's for a glass of fucking water. It was, and I urged her to drink it all before sitting opposite a woman I realise I don't really know at the breakfast bar. But nobody really knows their mother right? We weren't there to see how she dealt with being told no at the candy store, or how often she'd sneak out in her teenage years. As children of anyone, we'll only ever know our parents as exactly that- parents.