Come Back To Me (Previously No Friends Just Benefits)

7. No Friends, Just Benefits

I peered through the archway of the kitchen, watching Phil open the door as he patiently waited for Maria to shrug on her crimson pea coat. It was around ten o'clock, and even though I wished they'd stay for longer – I was lucky that time dragged on this much. Maybe my mom would be tired? Whatever happened, I hoped luck was on my side tonight. Just as the thought wiggled into my mind, my heart reminded me that although I was trying to stay calm and positive, nothing could keep my heart rate composed and collected. It was beating erratically, and I was getting more apprehensive by the minute.

"Well, darling, we had a splendid time!" Maria exclaimed.

Phil nodded, "Definitely, the food was great!" Oh no, don't bring up the food!

Mom smiled politely and waited for them to leave, softly shutting the door. The click! assured me that the door was locked – not that that gave me any sense of safety considering that the monster was my mother herself.

Almost as if she knew I'd been watching, she spun on her heel and grimaced at me. She extended her pointer finger and beckoned me towards her. I had no choice but to obey –Stay strong. Stay strong. Stay. Strong.

I recited the two words in my head repeatedly while I walked to my mom. A part of me was clinging to the vanishing hope I once felt, hoping that somewhere inside my mother was .... Well, a true mother that cared for her child. Maybe the mother I once knew was still in there, somewhere.

"So, honey, they seemed to like everything – but the chicken." She stared at me in frustration. "Overdone. You had one job, and you fucked up the food. They're going to think the absolute worst of me, so thank you for that." Her voice remained calm but that scared me even more. I felt her breath fan against my face and the alcohol wafted from her in waves.

I felt my eyes sting–not out of sadness, but out of fear. "Mom, I'm so sorry... I was in a rush, I'm so sorry." I begged, trying to sound the least bit convincing but she and I both knew that if there was one thing my mom didn't have, it was mercy.

"Stop crying you baby, if we were back in the old days I'd have no fear in chopping off the off fingers you used to cook that chicken. But I have a better punishment for you," she clenched her jaw and squinted her eyes. I hated when she got like this, she had completely lost herself in her rage, and there was no going back. It was like you could practically see the fire burning in her eyes.

It was the kind of look she carried when she was about to beat the shit out of me. I shut my eyes tight, begging that she wouldn't aim for something that was already bruised and battered. I didn't need this, had she forgotten about the abuse I endured only last night? When she was sober, it was bad enough. But tonight she was drunk and I knew it would be worse. It happened so fast, I couldn't even recall what exactly occurred. But this was how it always felt. Sharp, and over too soon, but then after a minute or so, once the numbness has vanished you finally let the pain sink in.

She didn't slap me.

She shoved me across the foyer, causing me to lose my balance and collide into the gigantic glass vase that sat by the staircase. All I knew was that the vase shattered into what seemed like a million little pieces and that I was sprawled across the broken glass. My vision went slightly hazy, and the corners began to darken and blur out into pitch black.