SHOUT

Mother

|Chapter 81|Mimsy|

As I walked home I wondered what I would say. If she would even listen to me. The closer to that house I was the more my chest felt heavy.

I'm scared but I have to. Joshie said sometimes forgiveness can make a person realize their mistakes. Even if she doesn't talk to me at least I'll know I gave it my last attempt. At least I'll be able to move forward with or without her.

I stood outside the house. I rarely came by these days. Melissa's house had become my home. A real home. The kind in movies where it's lively and there's never a dull moment even if her parents are deadbeats like mine. She at least has the company of her siblings.

I put my hand on the doorknob it was cold. I imagined what my mother would look like. I hadn't tried to see her in months. The last time I saw her she was still bony and tired. She was dying like she'd always been. I turned the knob and it opened. She didn't even leave it locked.

Upon entering the house the smell of rotted food and dirtiness hit me. At least the rotting food smell let me know she'd been attempting to eat something though I wasn't sure how long ago she'd tried. I closed the door behind me and it was dark. The windows had been blocked with blankets. I turned the light on and it flickered then died.

Perfect.

I went deeper into the house and saw a shimmer of light in the living room. It was from one single uncovered window. There sat my mother in her wheelchair staring out of it.

I know she heard me come in. She just chose to ignore it like always.

Ignore me or not, she will hear me out today even if she acts like she doesn't hear me I know she will.

"Mom..." It came out in a whisper.

She remained silent and still.

I took in a breath, "Mom, it was me. I did it. I killed him. I'm the reason Dad is dead. I did it because you didn't deserve to be beaten and treated like you were worthless. Every single day he would find something to argue about and I'd watch how you'd cower and let him rip you to shreds. How he never appreciated you. Never seemed to have an ounce of affection for you. For either of us. Not only did I watch it happen to you, I had it happen to me as well. I live in the same hell you did. We went through the same abuse and yet you still loved him. You loved him and I didn't. I couldn't, and because I couldn't I killed him. I'm sorry...," I choked on my tears, "I'm sorry so Mommy, I fucked up really badly, I messed everything up. I'm horrible and you have every right to hate me. To ignore m-"

"It's not your fault Mimsy," she finally said something to me after years of being silent and I was shaken. I froze with the occasional sob leaving my lips. She turned the wheelchair around to face me and I remained in shock. "It's not your fault baby girl," she looked at me with regretful eyes, the corners filled with tears.

"Mommy..." I whispered falling to her feet crying and apologizing over and over.

She bent forward and held my head up with her weak brittle shaky hands, "It's not your fault. It's not your fault it's mine," her voice cracked and hoarse as she began to sob. "It's mine, it's mine, it's mine," she continued to cry, "I should have protected you and I didn't, I should have left and taken you with but I didn't. Mimsy, I'm so sorry baby girl. I'm so sorry."

I put my head on her lap and hugged her legs with tears streaming down my face. "You couldn't leave, you were scared, just like me, we were both scared."