Daddy's Love

Chapter Three

When I got home, I half expected that the same men would be in our house. I knew that she wasn't nearly petty enough, but one can never be too sure. When I stepped inside, the stench of alcohol hit my nostrils with the force of an atomic bomb. I never drank – I tried it once, and I was disgusted by its taste. How can people even like something that's so... it's not even bitter, it's not spicy, it's just a specific taste that I can't describe. I remember the first and only time I tried vodka and how it burned my tongue, my throat, and my stomach. Never again!

And yet somehow, this was my mother's favorite drink. Before I went to work this morning, I left her some cash to buy food, 'maybe she can at least get that one basic skill,' but nah. It's obvious where my money went. Now the fridge was empty, and I either had to order something, just as my parents always did, or go to bed hungry.

The smell was even worse when I entered the kitchen. It was obvious that she'd thrown up. There was that awful smell of 'sourness' that made me want to puke as well.

You'd think that after doing that to your own body, you'd stop and drink a glass of water, but no – this woman was a champ. She had already another glass of vodka in front of her, ready to be drank. Spoiler alert, tomorrow she was going to suffer a nice hangover, and she was going to blame me for her drinking problems. Or just be miserable like in general.

"Did you buy food?" I asked her, but the only reply I got was my own echo. "I asked you something." This was the first time I was raising my voice at my parents. At my mum. But she was living in my home, and this was not acceptable. The kitchen was a complete mess. There were unwashed dishes, presumably they belong to her and the random man that was in her bed earlier today.

Seeing that she wasn't going to reply anytime soon, I went over to her and shook her. She was unresponsive. This wasn't the first time she'd passed out like that, so I wasn't very worried. At least she was breathing.

I'm not gonna try to wake her up. She can rot here for all I care. Tomorrow on top of her hangover, her neck was going to hurt as well. Very much deserved if you ask me. Fun fact – I didn't even have health insurance. You know how shitty the American health care system is? Well, every time I'd get sick, they wouldn't even buy me medicine. I had to take care of myself for most of my life. Despite the money the two of them had, I was lucky if I was given any food. I was told to 'fend for myself.' Which I very much did.

I'm an extremely patient person, but even I have my limits. I wonder how long it'll take for her to push all my tolerance levels. What would I do in that case? Kick her out? I can't kick her out. As much as I hate her sometimes, she's my mother. She's the person that had me in her stomach for nine months and then went through the suffering of giving birth to me.

I remember how when I was little, she'd scream at me because she'd lost her beauty due to her pregnancy with me. I mean I've seen pictures of her before she got pregnant, and I can see why my dad fell in love with her. She looked like a model. And I'm not saying this because she's my own mother – it's a fact. It's not an everyday thing for someone with blue eyes, blonde hair, and good genes that made her never get fat to be born. She never bothered with what she was eating – before she had me, that is. After that, everything changed.

Maybe she is right after all. Maybe I shouldn't have been born. They would have been so much happier without me. I wouldn't have had to suffer for 20 years with them. A good happy ending for everyone if you ask me. They had the chance to be happy, while I was destined to suffer in their presence anyway.

I went to open the fridge, hoping that there would be something remotely edible. I was too exhausted, both mentally and physically. I didn't have the energy to take my phone and order something, let alone leave the house and go somewhere. Even if I did, I'd still have to talk to someone, and I really didn't want anyone to see me in this state.

To my luck, there was actually some leftover food indeed in the fridge. Sushi. Basic enough. I thought to myself, where did they come from, and then I realized the stranger from earlier probably got them. Usually, I'd care about this and not even bother touching them, but hearing my stomach grumble overpowered the feeling of pride and chastity, so I got them.

I sat on the opposite side of my mum. We had those small tables for two people. There were only two chairs. If my mum is sitting on that side, does that mean that the dude from earlier was sitting here? Was he naked while he was sitting here? I almost barfed at that thought, but it didn't matter. All that mattered now was that I got some food into my stomach before I went to bed.

I have to give it to the guy – the sushi was really tasty. I have no idea where he got them from, but probably somewhere expensive considering that this was a rather 'special occasion' for him and my mum. You know, I'm not gonna leave her anything. She doesn't deserve it anyway. She may have been the one that brought food to the table today, in some nasty way, but that doesn't mean that she'll get to eat it too.

After I was done, I looked at the empty plate in front of me. Now on top of her neck pain and the hangover, she was going to be hungry as well. A smile drew itself on my face – being petty feels good. I think I'm going to be trying it out much more in the following days.

I went to my room, probably the only place in the entire apartment that was clean. The room smelled of lavender. I know that's a 'girly scent,' but there was something about the smell that calmed me down. I read somewhere that it helps you fall asleep too, and those two months I've been trying it out, it really helped.

The room was unusually hot, and when I turned on the lights, I noticed that the sheets were not made. I always make the sheets before I go to work. I remember doing them this morning. When the realization of what had happened hit me, I wanted to go in the kitchen, pull the woman there by her hair, and throw her out the window.

She didn't do the deed just in my own home in general, but in my own room too. I know she did it out of spite. I knew that woman was not a good person, but this was just disgusting out of her. Not even as a mother, but just as a person. Was she not embarrassed? She just got divorced from my father, and who knows how long she's been hooking up with him, and plus she had to do it in my own room. Absolutely despicable. That woman is everything a mother should not be.

Blood rushed to my head, and with the anger I was feeling, I gathered up the energy to change all the sheets to something clean. I threw the dirty sheets in the laundry basket – the thing was full. I never had the time to clean it as I was busy taking care of both of us, and my mother was obviously busy drinking and spreading her legs.

That last part felt really wrong in my head. I could not believe I was thinking about my mother this way. But it was true. It's not my fault she did all of this. Whatever little bit of her image she had in front of me, she lost it. You have no idea how little respect I have toward that woman. I hate her. I hate her so much. I don't care that she's my mother. No child should have to live through what I did. If I even become a parent, I swear to never end up like them. I will take care of my child as if it was the most precious thing in the world. And that's because it is. But I guess I wasn't precious enough for them. The shiny coins seem to have overthrown my value in front of their own eyes. Wait, I never had any value to begin with.

After I was done fixing my bed, I opened the window and turned off the lights. For some reason, I felt really comfortable in the dark. People are usually scared of what might be lurking in the shadows, but not me – for me, the darkness was my shield. My dad couldn't tell if I was awake or even crying in the void. I lay on my bed, and that's exactly what I did. There was no one to hurt me now. My father was far away, and my mother could probably barely walk. I let the tears fall out.

I don't care that I'm weak anymore. I can't deal with it. I can't deal living like this for the rest of my life. I just want a loving family. A loving mother and a loving father. Is that too much to ask? I even started weeping and making sounds for the first time when crying. While this may make me even weaker, at least nobody could see me like this.

I have no idea how long I had been crying, but when I woke up, sunlight pierced the window, blasting my eyes.