Caged

Chapter Twenty Four

Not once have I ever been late handing in an assignment. Not even in high school. Now, because of work and my mother, that streak has ended.

I could not fail this course. It wasn’t just because it would help me get the career I wanted. It was also my ticket out of this hell that I called my home.

While I was studying I could use it as my excuse to stick around, and I didn’t have to deal with the real reasons why I haven’t left home yet. However once I graduated, and had a more permanent and stable job, my only excuse for staying would be my mother’s incompetence. There’s no way that Jaxon, or anyone else I know, would let me get away with using that excuse.

My mum hasn’t spoken to me since last night. Which is partly on my shoulders. I’ve stayed confined to my bedroom trying to finish the last bit of the essay.

When Jace left, my fear dissipated enough for me to finally be angry with my mother. Angry with her for embarrassing me in front of the first boy I’ve brought home to meet her that isn’t my gay best friend, but my boyfriend. And angry with her for leaving her mess behind when she stormed ff.

So, instead of working on my essay last night, I was cleaning up her beer bottles, and emptying ashtrays.

It resulted in me having to wake up at six in the morning to finish it. My hand furiously went across the pages leaving a blur of words in its wake. My hand seemed to know what to write, but my mind couldn’t seem to process the words enough to make sense of them.

I was pressing down so hard as I wrote, that the words were imprinted onto the next two pages.

I knew it was out of anger. I had never felt that level of pressure before. The essay would have been completed and sent in days before the due date if I wasn’t stuck doing everything around the house.

I needed a break before my essay turned into a long rant about my mum. I’m sure my teacher wouldn’t appreciate that, though. I knew that what I needed was a very large coffee. Whether I was lucky enough to find some milk in the fridge for me to actually have one was a different story.

My mum was out in the living room watching television. Which was loud enough for the neighbors to hear. My need for coffee was greater than my need to avoid my mother right now. So I sucked it up and went out there.

She didn’t say a word or even look at me as I walked past and broke through her usual cloud of smoke. The kitchen was a mess despite being cleaned last night right before I went to bed. My mind could not fathom that one person made so much mess in a matter of hours, but cleaning it would have to wait.

“Make me a cup of coffee before you disappear into that room of yours again,” she shouted through to me. “And clean the kitchen. It’s a bloody mess, Ashlyn.” She went into a raging fit of coughing. It literally sounded like she was coughing up her lungs. Realistically, she probably wasn’t far from it.

For a horrifying second, I found myself whispering in my own mind, “I hope you choke.” Having one parent that has already died, I would never wish the same fate on the only parent I have left. It showed me just how mad at her I actually was. 

I quickly shook the thought from my mind and focused on counting how long it took for the water to boil. It was an effective and calming distraction. Until it was done, that is.

Some time throughout my counting, I seemed to have already gotten the coffees ready. All they needed was the water and milk.

But of course when I looked in the fridge there was only enough milk left to make one cup. I was very tempted to just use it for my own cup, but I didn’t want to doom myself to my mother’s wrath. I would just have to wait, like always.