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I pull into the driveway and shut my car off, getting out and slowly walking in. I turn the doorknob to find it unlocked. I step inside, walking into the house nervously. I hear things clattering in the kitchen, so I set my things down and enter. My mother is stood over the stove, stirring something. She hears me enter and turns to look at me. I silently cheer when I see she isn't drunk, but almost gasp in surprise when she smiles at me.


"Hey Miss Gracie" She smiles. I feel my heart practically stop. Her and my dad used to call me that all the time before he died.

"Hi, Momma," I say carefully. I sit down at the counter and wait on edge for her to snap at me.

"You hungry? I'm making grilled cheese and tomato soup" She asks, gesturing to the stove where two pans lay.

"I-I uh actually ate a-at my friends h-house" I stutter, afraid of the reaction she would have.

"That's alright, I figured you would" She shrugs. She moved the soup to the back burner and turns the heat off.

"Can you come here for a sec?" She asks sweetly. I nod and jump off the chair, taking the few short steps to her.

"Here, take this," She tells me, holding out the whisk. I go to take it, but she moves it at the last second, grabbing my hand and pressing it to the hot stove. I scream in pain, fighting to get it off, but she doesn't budge.

"You been disobedient lately, going out late and coming home in the morning, who are you sleeping with?" She spits, pushing my hand down harder. I cry out, the pain being almost unbearable.

"No one! I'm sorry!" I cry, my eyesight blurry. She lets go and pushes me to the ground while I hold my wrist of my burnt hand.

"I don't believe you. Whoever it is, just know it won't last long" She hisses, kicking my side. I bite my lip so I don't scream and get up, scrambling to get downstairs. I go straight to my bathroom and open my medicine cabinet, taking out the burn cream I've used a few times before. I look at my hand and cringe. It's never been this bad. I rub the cream on, crying from the pain of it, and wrap it up so I wouldn't accidentally touch it. I definitly can't be in the video now. Besides, I still have a black eye.

Before she hurt me, she was being so kind, just the way she was before my dad passed. I got so excited, thinking everything would go back to the way it was before, but it can't. He's not coming back. My mom will change someday though. I know she will.

I can't help but think about her words. 'It won't last long'. I mean, I'm not sleeping with him, but I know that it won't last. He'll get bored and move on soon, I know he will. After all, I'm just a fan. A no one.

I lay on my bed and turn on my tv, putting Spotify on for background noise. I take out my phone and open Twitter. I want to tweet something indirect about my mother and being only just a fan, but knowing Grayson looks at my page and might have my notifications makes me hesitate. He can't ask me about it because he's still not supposed to know my username or anything, but he will probably ask for it eventually. I open a new tweet, hesitantly typing 'disappointed but not surprised. same old shit, but a different day'. I tweet it and scroll through my news feed, retweeting tweets I relate to. After about three minutes, I close the Twitter app and open Instagram, scrolling through my timeline there too. Getting bored, I lock my phone and go to set it down, but it dings. I unlock it again and open the message.

just a fan // grayson dolanWhere stories live. Discover now