Love Me Like You Hate Me (Edited Version)

Chapter 21

I sighed, checking the time as I threw my legs over the side of the bench I was had been napping on: 11:37pm. I should be getting home. I hadn't planned on falling asleep, but I had been exhausted after the encounter with Rich. My mom was probably wondering where I was if she wasn't drunk again already.

With little enthusiasm, I started for my mom's apartment. I had come to my mom's to avoid my father and the problems that had clustered into my life, but the last few hours had proved unproductive in that regard. I had spent my entire walk obsessing over what my mom would say about me being in love with another man, and then my entire nap having a nightmare about what Zack would do when I got to school on Monday.

When I reached the apartment, I entered with a heavy heart, dissatisfied with my attempt at relaxation. Normally, I'd tell myself to just sleep it off and forget it happened. However, as I said before, I already tried that and it didn't work. I only had one day left to sort myself out and it wasn't looking promising.

Only a few steps into the apartment, my eyebrows furrowed. Some smell was floating past me. It smelled salty and sweet at the same time... and burnt. That couldn't be good. I started panicking and hurried into the living room. "Mom? Mom, are you okay?" I called.

Relief flooded through me when I saw my mom standing over a pot on the stove, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a large spoon. She turned when I entered and smiled. "Hey, are you hungry? Dinner's almost done." Her smile grew as she gestured to the oven. "Dessert too," she said.

As she turned back to her cooking, I walked over to peek in the oven. There was a chocolate cake baking steadily. "Where'd you get all this stuff?" I asked.

She shrugged happily. "I ran to the store," she said, very proud of herself. She grabbed some bowls and utensils from the cabinet. "You seemed like you could use a little picker-upper."

As I walked over and began helping her set the table, a small smile tugged at the corners of my lips. She did this for me, I thought. That night we sat down to a feast of chicken soup and chocolate cake. We laughed and talked, and I told my mom a little bit about school, excluding the parts that would upset her, and she said she was proud of me for making good grades, to which I smiled, happy to receive her approval. It was an evening I never thought I'd live through, but an evening I was glad to enjoy.

That night when I went to bed on that familiar, lumpy couch, I forgot all about Zack, and my dad, and all the things that had been bothering me. I slept almost peacefully for the first time in weeks. It was bliss.

*******

I can't say exactly what woke me, but I suddenly found myself wide awake and in the pitch black darkness of the apartment some time in the early morning. I laid still for a minute, just sort of listening for whatever had disturbed me. Then my head twitched in the direction of the front door. There was a faint clicking sound coming from the lock.

I sat up and stared at the door, fear creeping up my spine. Was someone breaking in? I stood quickly and searched for a blunt object. Finding nothing but the wooden broom, I gripped it tightly and stood ready a few feet away from the door. Whoever it was would have to go through me. 

As I suspected, the lock turned by itself and then the door handle followed suit. I tightened my grip on the broom as the door swung open. I didn't give the assailant a moment's warning before I swung the broom through the air, landing a hard blow to the side of Rich's head. His face contorted in pain, but he barely moved, having braced his arm against the wall. "What the hell?" he muttered, rubbing his face.

I glared at him. "Get out, now," I ordered.

He gritted his teeth and before I could react, he had snatched the broom out of my hands and used the end of it to jab me in the stomach. I doubled over in pain. He tossed the broom aside and walked past me towards my mom's room. My body ached, but I managed to grab my phone and dial nine-one-one. They picked up on the first ring.