My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 67: I'm a Bad Person

I awoke to a sharp rapping on my door, breaking me out of my hibernal sleep. I ripped the blankets off my head, ready to scream at Paul to fuck off, when I heard Linda say, "Honey, I made breakfast, come down and eat with me."

I couldn't bring myself to say no to my stepmom, especially when she sounded so earnest, so I hauled myself out bed, throwing a bathrobe over my pajamas and pulling my hair up into a ponytail before trudging downstairs. Despite my dour mood, I couldn't help but perk up when I smelled the traditional English breakfast Linda prepared.

"Here you are, sweetie," Linda said, setting a plate in front of me.

My mouth watered at the heaping breakfast: two fried eggs, two sausages, a slice of toast with a glob of melting butter, greasy, panfried mushrooms, and a sizeable portion of baked beans. I didn't know where to start.

"Coffee or tea?" Linda asked.

"Uh, coffee."

She grinned, pouring me a cup with lots of room. "Glad to know I've rubbed off on you a little bit." Grabbing an identical plate to mine, she clinked our mugs of coffee together. "Cheers."

Not meeting her eyes, I added plenty of cream and sugar to my coffee till it was practically white. Jack would've asked if I wanted any coffee with my milk. Speaking of...

"Where's my brother?"

"Out with some old friends; I'm sure they're glad to know he's alive and well. And Paul took Mary for a stroller ride in the park. It's just the two of us this morning."

Just the two of us. This could be my last chance to tell her...

"That's why I wanted to make you breakfast. It feels like we rarely spend time together, just the two of us." She touched my right hand, the one that wasn't busy filling my face with toast and beans. "I hope you don't feel that I've neglected you, or that you're any less of my daughter than Mary, because you're not."

I swallowed the guilt in my throat along with the bread. "Thanks... Mum."

Smiling, she added. "And even though I've been busy, I know Paul's taken good care of you."

I nearly choked on my coffee. If only she knew. I should be the one apologizing, not her. I don't know where all this shame- this urge to confess- came from, but it took all the effort in the world to not tell her everything.

She deserves to know; she deserves the truth.

'If I tell her, she'll hate me. I'll ruin her marriage and our family,' I screamed at the voice in my head.

You already ruined your family, it's time to own up to it.

"Is something wrong, darling?"

"Mum, I- I need to tell you something."

"What is it?"

Judging by the panic in her tone, she thought I was going to mention my drug use or my abortion or something like that. She genuinely cared about me, and I betrayed her trust.

"I've done something really awful, something to you."

"To me?" She set down her coffee mug, leaning in closer. "What is it?"

My lower lip trembled as tears rolled down my cheeks, one after the other, with no sign of stopping. "I'm terrified to tell you, cause I know you'll never forgive me and that you'll hate me just like I hate myself, but I can't go another second lying to you."

"Lo, listen to me; I could never hate you. Whatever it is, we'll work through it, okay?"

Despite knowing this couldn't be true, part of me wanted to believe her. I wanted to think that someone loved me enough to overlook the worst parts of me. She got over my runaway attempt, my abortion, my heroin habit, my bisexuality, why should this be any different?