Like My Mother

Chapter Two

My eyelids pry their way open, no matter how much I try to fight. The sleepies are weak chains, they let me down. All the light from heaven seems to be shining in my room, and no matter how many times I blink it won't seem to dim. I raise up too quickly and am hit with a full force migraine; I feel the nausea coming up. I rush to the bathroom, slam the door closed, and heave into the porcelain ring. It seems to go on forever, but finally my stomach is at rest. I slump over, my arm on the toilet seat the only thing holding me up, my head keeps lolling side to side which doesn't help my headache any.

And then I hear three raps on the door, "Who the hell ever is in there, better friggin let me in!"

"Oh shit." I think to myself. "Just give me a damn minute!" I yell back. My sister always has had bad timing, like the time she was born.

"Hurry the fuck up!" she yells back. For being only 9 years old, she knows more words in the book than I do and never lets me forget either. I hear her stomp off down the hallway, and I walk to the sink to wash my face.

I splash the cold water on my face and it shakes me awake. I put my hand over my mouth and huff and then nearly puke again. A furious thrashing with a toothbrush later, and I'm almost over my hangover. I walk downstairs to the kitchen and hear the usual blare of the TV; my sister is sitting at the small, rickety table eating a bowl of soggy cereal.

"It's about damn time." she retorts as she pushes past me and walks up the stairs to the bathroom, making sure to slam the door behind her.

I heave a sigh and collapse on the sofa, I want to eat but then again I don't. I'm not sure if my stomach can handle it. I just rub my hand over it and try to whisper to it, telling it to calm down and there's nothing wrong. It just doesn't seem to listen. I look around the room for my mom, but she's nowhere to be found. She hardly ever is around, probably just in her bed passed out because she got too drunk again last night.

I lay down all the way on the sofa and throw the remote in the air and catch it, I don't even worry about it hitting me. Eventually it does leaving a nice welt on the top of my head, I hear snickers in the background and look up to see my sister snickering and pointing her finger at me.

"You're a dumbass!" she laughs.

I throw a pillow at her and she dodges it easily, and follows by running and jumping on top of me. After emitting a horrendous battle cry, she commences to hit me in the head.

"Get the hell off me bitch!" I scream, trying to push her off of me. But she's got her feet anchored underneath the cushions and she's not going anywhere. I keep trying to push her fists off me while simultanelously trying to hit her back. I pump my fist up and only hit air, she slaps me in the face and gives me even more fire. I feel her breath on my knuckles and punch; I know I hit her and she knows it hurts. She slaps me one more good time before climbing off of me and walking off into the distance, clutching her nose in her hands. She stands in front of the front door for a moment and releases her hand from her nose. Sure enough, a few drops of blood escape and hit the floor, echoing massively as they soak into the raggedy rug. My sister won't look at me, and I have a distant feeling that she's crying. And for some reason it makes me feel remorseful, which is a complete contradiction to the fact that just earlier she had no problem beating the shit out of me. But regardless, it tugs at my heart when she clasps her hand back over her nose and runs up the stairs.

I lie back down on the sofa and wonder why this life is mine. It seems like an issue way beyond my maturity level, the kind of thinking that no people do until they're about to die or going through a mid-life crisis. But the truth is I've felt dead for years, I don't even remember the last time that I felt safe with my surroundings.

I can't think anymore; my mom stumbles down the stairs, almost falling, and gives me a deer in headlights look.

"What the hell did you do to your sister?" she demands. I can tell by how she asks the question that she's already convinced that I did the wrong. That's it's all my fault.

"She hit me first."

"Goddamn, why can't you two just get along for once in your fucking lives?! I have a fucking headache and all I hear is you and Syrie fighting! God can't you two just for once shut the fuck up!" she yells as she stumbles to the kitchen and throws open the fridge. "Where the fuck is all the food?"

"You ate it all you dumbass bitch." I say to myself, but she still hears me.

"Oh so I'm a bitch?" she gets right in my face, but her eyes won't stay focused on mine. "If I'm a bitch then you're a cu..." she falls on the floor in front of the sofa.

I wince when she hits the floor, but then I get up to check her pulse. Unfortuantley it's still beating; I throw a blanket over her and go to grab my backpack out of my room. I have to get out of this house, I have to get away for awhile...