The Inceptive Flame⎪✓

❨21❩

♀︎

Barging into my house I'm relieved that my dad is visiting the hospital today, rage is bubbling underneath the surface and I don't want him to witness me losing my mind. Harshly ripping at the roots of my hair, my feet trudge heavily around the entrance of my home in lost desperation. The need to get a hold of myself is powerful, but it appears unmanageable. The pounding in my head and my hammering heart, it's destroying my ability to think and rationalize. 

"Dakota Moore!" A female voice shrieks from upstairs and I already acknowledge that this will end badly. My mother is the one person besides Caspar that can piss me off to the bone. She charges down the stairs, a slight wobble to her step and I instantly know what she must've been doing up there. "What the hell am I hearing, you're punching guys at your school now? Why are you acting up like this?"

The smell of vodka is horrific and it's so painfully evident on her breath, rolling my eyes at her, and her sudden need to be parental in my life. If she truly doesn't understand why her daughter is behaving carelessly right now, she is more withdrawn than I ever thought possible. "Yeah, why am I acting up like this, mother?"

She crosses her arms and tumbles to the side, catching herself in time, "Beats me! You are the biggest brat, you literally have everything you ask for, now you're whining because your dad is a little sick? Life doesn't stop for you, Dakota, stop feeling bad for yourself. It's pathetic and never a good look on a girl."

I clench my fingers tightly, frantically trying to control myself, "And what are you doing? You can't expect me to believe that you aren't feeling sorry for yourself, your husband is dying! What the fuck do you not get? He needs us and you're never here, you're out drinking! I defended myself today and if you really were my mother you would understand! Do not expect me to be here after dad dies, I refuse to live with your unreasonable drinking, with your unswerving fucking need to shred me apart. And who knows, it's only a matter of time before you start bringing men into this home to fu-"

An unexpected burning and sharp prickling on my right cheek cut me off and the erratic look in my mom's eyes is a transparent portrayal of how low she just stooped. She's clutching her hand to her chest and it's turning a shade of dark red. A wicked smirk falls onto my lips as a menacing laugh explodes from my wrecked body, she looks absolutely bewildered and the laugh intensifies. It's so bad that tears stream aimlessly down my face. My body feels strange, it feels like I'm standing next to myself, the girl laughing so powerfully with tears slipping down her cheeks, one of them red from the slap her mom just delivered. That girl is losing herself. 

"Well, now you truly have outdone yourself, mother. Congratu-fucking-lations, would you like for me to write down the date of the first time you struck your daughter? Maybe we should get a picture, yes! That would be an excellent idea!" I grin at her and quickly grab my phone, turning on the camera and angling it at us I snap a picture. I'm smiling maniacally while my mom is staring at me in terror, my eyes are watery and red just like my right cheek.

Without another word, my mother leaves the house through the front door, not even troubling herself enough to put on shoes. I don't say anything to stop her, but the adrenaline in my body is quickly dwindling and the burning in my fist has returned along with the stinging on my cheek. It was stupid of me to punch him with the hand that just healed from cutting myself on glass, now the wound is reopened and bleeding to an unnecessary degree. 

Hauling my feet upstairs, I enter my room and launch myself on the bed. My hand is bleeding onto the sheets, but I don't care. Thick tears stream aimlessly down my exhausted face, the fatigue is too much for me to do anything about my life going down the drain at a rapid pace. It's crazy how this is my life now, being tyrannized because of my sick dad, punching guys, being slapped by my mother, having a meltdown in front of her. 

It's ironic really, how I thought I had everything under control. My future consisted of college and new friends, it consisted of my dad visiting my dorm and complimenting the small space I would have made my own with personal touches and lots of flowers. I looked forward to being on my own, but now, nothing seems to be reliable enough anymore. The sole reason for that is because I won't have my dad to share it with, he won't be there to listen to my complaining about the homework and he won't be there to support me through the lonely nights. 

Nothing seems appealing to me anymore, it's weird actually. I need to get it together though, my mom won't tell my dad that I punched someone, because that would lead to her informing him of slapping me. If I can get my shit together, my dad won't have to know and he can become healthy in peace. Worrying won't help him in his circumstance right now, so I would hate to be the reason for it. 

Breaking down in front of him this weekend was a step in the wrong direction, it literally ended up with me losing myself for a minute today. If he's anxious about my well-being he won't make any progress, so I have to keep it together for this family. My mom isn't improving anything, she's probably already on her third drink at the bar downtown and that is somewhat my fault. It presumably horrified her seeing me behaving like that.

Shaking my head I walk into the bathroom and stare at myself in the mirror, my eye is swollen and I instantly know she was carrying a ring when she struck me. I can't handle a black eye right now, but it appears I can't get behind it. My brown hair is disordered and my oval-shaped head is blotched, everything about it feels off. Maybe a shower would do me some good.

Looking myself in the eyes, I nod and smile in encouragement. Of course, I can handle this, I'm Zack's daughter for fuck's sake, I'm made for this.