Different.

Chapter 14: On the Horizon

Chapter 14

On the Horizon

I woke up to the sound of drunken laughing and what sounded like the impromptu remodeling of the furniture in the living room.

Sighing and pulling myself out of a pleasantly dreamless sleep, I sluggishly shoved my blankets off of me and sat up on the edge of my bed, my toes brushing the carpet in the darkness below me.

I squeezed my eyes shut as I massaged my temples furiously in a halfhearted effort to keep the lingering migraine from the previous day at bay.

I still felt like I'd recently been hit by a large freight train, but I also knew from numerous past experiences that if I didn't get up and at least attempt to pull my mother out of her drunken stupor she'd end up choking on her own vomit again.

I rubbed the little sleep left from my eyes and lugged myself into the hallway, my extra long pajama bottoms dragging against the hardwood while I made my way into the living room. Immediately I was greeted with my mom half nude, a bottle of a muddy brown liquid in her left hand and dark makeup smudged down her face.

One foot was slung over the already sagging back of the yellowing couch and the other was kicked up on the coffee table among all sorts of fast food wrappers and empty bottles, while her free hand scratched at the wrinkly orange skin on her stomach.

"Mom, what are you doing? It's the middle of the night." I yawned, stretching my arms over my head.

She yanked her face away from the soap opera playing loudly on the television and locked her bloodshot eyes on my own. Without letting me free of her death glare, she scowled, then took a swig of her drink.

"Mind your own damn business Kaylee," She slurred, shooing me away with a floppy hand.

Instead of leaving her be, I sighed and lumbered over to her, heaving one of her arms over my shoulder and trying to pry her off of the couch.

"C'mon mom, you need to get in bed at least."

"Don't baby me," She grumbled, slithering out of my grasp like a disobedient child and falling to the ground in a heap.

"I wouldn't have to baby you if you didn't act like a baby, now get up and go lay in your bed before you hurt yourself," I snapped with a little more force, furrowing my brows as I tried to pull her back up by her arm.

"I said leave me alone Kaylee," She hissed, violently yanking herself free and taking another chug of her almost drained bottle of alcohol.

Anger and impatience began to boil in my stomach, and with my face twisted into an infuriated glower, I yanked the bottle out of her hand, making the musty liquor spill all over her face before I flung it against the wall.

As it smashed into a plethora of slimy bits and pieces, she protested in a groggy squeal.

But at this point, I didn't care.

I am beyond fed up with her bullshit, and she needs to get a hold of herself.

"Kaylee what the fuck was that?" She screeched at me, stumbling to her feet. "That was a perfectly good bottle and you fuckin wasted it!"

"Pull your shit together mom!" I shouted back, matching her volume.

Her jaw slackened in shock, and for a moment she was silent, dumbstruck.

I'd never screamed at her before, and it would probably get me in so much trouble I'd be buried alive in it, but I didn't care. I was finally starting to feel like I had power over my life and within myself, and I wasn't about to let her take it away, irregardless of the consequences.

She still said nothing, so I rumbled on, letting out a bitterness I didn't know I had bottled inside.

"Stop sleeping around with every semi rich guy with a decent sized dick in the hopes that he'll become your sugar daddy, stop wasting your life away watching cheap television shows, and for fucks sake stop drowning yourself in alcohol! I'm sick of your shit! Stop acting like a fucking idiotic college student, because you're a grown ass woman and you're supposed to be a mother!"

My voice trembled as I pushed the words out, but once they were, I felt as if a huge weight had been lifted off of my chest.

Still, she remained silent, the monotonous mumbles of someone advertising some sort of detergent and my lingering sharp words the only things I could hear.

And then, so fast it was like someone had flicked a switch, the rage that had boiled my blood only moments before wrung her face into a dark, vengeful mask.

Terror churned in my stomach as that was an expression I knew all too well, but before I had time to react, her outstretched hand struck out, smacking me hard enough that I stumbled back and saw stars.

"How dare you talk to me like that, how fucking dare you. Who do you think you are? huh?" Her voice became shrill, and she struck me again, this time hard enough that I felt my cheek sting and my ears began to ring.

"Who do you think you are judging me? You're a fucking little girl for Christ sakes!" A humorless laugh escaped her lips before she continued. "You think because you're taking your fancy classes everyday that you somehow have the money to pay for yourself-no doubt you're probably stealing it from me-that you can do and say whatever the fuck you want? Well you've got another thing coming you little uppity bitch!"

She pulled her arm back and got ready to smack me even harder, but in the few seconds I had before she made contact, my mind went on autopilot.

Without thinking, my shifting took over, and I froze her hand midair.

Her eyes inflated and the rest of her body loosened a fraction of an inch, confused as to why she couldn't move her arm all of a sudden.

Pushed onward only by pure instincts, I flung her back against the wall as if she weighed no more than a doll, and she collided with the old grubby mirror that was hung by the front door.

It shattered and showered the ground in pieces that crunched underneath the weight of her unconscious body, leaving only the frame left hanging pitifully on the wall.

My chest heaved as I stood glaring at her, and slowly but surely the ire that had fueled me vaporized, letting guilt begin to creep in.

"Oh my god..." I whispered, raising a hand to cover my gaping mouth. "What have I done?"

I took a few numb steps backward, all the while my eyes never leaving the sight of her lying slumped against the wall in a pile of glass.

A small group of empty glass bottles tripped me while I had my eyes still locked on my mother, and I lost my footing, barely catching myself in time by throwing my hand out to the wall.

The voice on the TV droned on, a jubilant male voice saying in a voice that seemed much too excited, "It's a knockout!"

What have I done?

Tears began to brim my eyes, and before I knew it my body was pulling me at full speed away from my home, fleeing seemingly of it's own accord.

The houses and barking dogs and old cars that flew by me as I went were nothing but indistinguishable blurs in the background, all swirled together by my salty teardrops.

When I did finally stop, it was only because my knees had begun to shake awhile before and had finally given up on me, my body collapsing to the ground.

I had no clue where I was, and I couldn't care less, all I cared about was curling up in the comfort of the grass and bushes and shutting my eyes to the world, letting my tears fall silently and drop onto the warm skin on my hand.

What have I done?

Have I killed my own mother?

Sure she was never going to win any parenting awards, but the question was enough to make me shudder.

After all, what kind of person kills their own mother?

"I was just angry," I croaked aloud to the thick night air. "I was just angry and I lost control. I didn't mean it."

But somehow I knew that didn't change anything. Not really.