Chapter 4
1619 Words
Shana
Despite my mom’s wishes for me to study more math, I chose music as one of my extra classes for more points. The extra points are so that I will have a bigger chance of being accepted into a good university once I graduate from the gymnasium.
If I ever make it that far…
I push the darkness out of my head and try to focus on the music lesson. We were told to practice on our own. I’m playing the piano today, too afraid of singing, even though I’ve heard I have the voice of an angel—at least by my old teacher in middle school.
I continue playing alone on the piano as the professor assists someone else with their instrument. Mei appears out of nowhere and sits down beside me in front of the piano. She is holding a milkshake cup in one hand and a straw between her lips. I glance over at her with curiosity, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Then, her spontaneous fingers that aren’t on her milkshake start to play along with mine.
I blink. “You play the piano?”
She looks up at me. “I play many instruments: the piano, some guitar, and even the violin.”
My eyebrows shoot into my hairline. “Very impressive. Maybe we could do a duet sometime?”
Mei grins, her eyes lighting up. “I would love that.”
We continue playing, lost in the music, when suddenly I can’t keep my mouth shut anymore.
“Aren’t you scared Vincent will do something if you’re seen with me?”
Our eyes meet, and I’m surprised to see the corner of her lips quirked up in a sly, yet interested smile.
“You think I’m scared of him?”
“Everyone is scared of him.”
She snorts. “Not me.”
“Really?” I ask. I’m not convinced and c**k my head to the side to eye her face, but Mei is avoiding looking at me by staring down at the piano keys. “At first glance, I didn’t think you were afraid of Vincent either. But then he came over to my table, and you fled.”
She gives a brief, lingering glance in my direction. “
“I’m not afraid of him. Vincent won’t destroy me. My brother is his best friend, so he wouldn’t want to make him mad by ruining things for me. But he knows my deepest secret, which is a huge problem.”
“Secret?”
She dismisses me with her hand. “A story for another time.”
That’s...slightly confusing.
“So we won’t become friends then?”
“Nah, I like you,” she purses her lips. “You and I are definitely going to become friends. Just don’t take it personally if I run when Vincent comes around.”
I don’t know what Vincent could possibly know about Mei to make her avoid him like the plague. But I don’t have any friends, so I will take what I can get.
***
Later the same day, I come home to chaos. I might have turned eighteen, yet I’m unsure if I will ever be able to move out of my mom’s house. She might be abusive and drink too much alcohol, but I still love her.
I still worry about her.
My heart sinks when I hear blaring music coming from the kitchen and see broken bottles scattered on the floor. It’s a sign that my mom has had too much to drink again.
I exhale heavily before stepping inside the kitchen. As much as I want to avoid another confrontation with my mom, I know it’s inevitable. Yesterday she was unconscious on the floor, and I’m hoping tonight won’t be a repeat of that.
I step inside the kitchen and am immediately met with my mother’s loud and raspy voice. “Shana!” she cries and throws out her arms as if wanting to take flight. I’m almost afraid of the look on her face. She looks manic and absolutely crazy-eyed. “You should be in school! What are you doing here?”
My mouth forms a flat line. “School is over, Mom... For how long have you been drinking?”
Her eyes narrow into dangerous slits. “How dare you accuse me of drinking too much, huh? You’re the mistake. You’re the reason why I’m drinking. If I hadn’t had you, then I could have been a movie star. I gave up on everything to raise you.”
Her words cut like knives, but the pain isn’t as bad as it used to be. I’m used to my mom’s drunken rants. They come out of nowhere and don’t stop until she is tucked in with her beloved blanket. Don’t ask me why, but her drunken self needs this ugly knitted blanket in order to sleep. If it’s not with her, she will fight and throw a tantrum. The last time I forgot to bring “blankie” to bed, she tried to bite me.
As I look at her, I can’t help but feel sorry for her. She is a lost soul who’s stuck in the past, unable to move on.
I walk over to her and gently put my hands on her delicate shoulders. She is so thin. “Mom, come on. Let’s get you in bed. You need to rest.”
She shrugs my hands off and pushes me away, or at least tries to. She is weak and wobbly on her legs, while I’m a bit bigger than her.
“I don’t need your help! Get out of my sight!” She takes a step forward on shaky legs, her eyes glazed over. “In fact, get out of my house! You’re not welcome here anymore. I’m done with you!”
My heart sinks at her words, but I try to remain calm since I know she is drunk. “Mom, please don’t say that. You don’t mean it.”
“I mean every word,” she says through gritted teeth. “You’re a burden, Shana—a useless, good-for-nothing burden. I’m tired of taking care of you. I’m tired of seeing your face every day. I want you gone!”
I feel a lump forming in my throat as I realize that my worst fear is coming true. My mom wants me out of the house. She wants me gone, just like that.
“Where will I go?” I whisper in a broken voice.
“I don’t care where you go. Just leave me alone! Go to your father for all I care. He is the one who wanted you in the first place.”
I shake my head, tears streaming down my face. “Dad is dead, mom. He died two years ago in jail.”
She raises an eyebrow as if trying to remember. “Oh, right..you can stay then. Just know that I hate you! I f*****g hate you! Hate...you...hate.”
I inhale deeply, watching as her eyes close and she suddenly collapses. I catch her right in time. “You really need to stop drinking so much...” I mumble.
Since my mom never eats food, she isn’t that heavy, and I easily drag her over to the couch. I tuck her in with her beloved blanket and then walk inside the kitchen, determined to break all of the bottles that I can find. It won’t stop her. She is too rich to be stopped from buying more, but it will put my anxious heart at ease.
Once I’m done smashing all the bottles, I start to clean up the mess my mom made.
What I’m to do with her?
As I remove the shattered pieces of glass, memories come flooding back, and I remember what she said earlier: you’re a burden, Shana—a useless, good-for-nothing burden.
My hands start to tremble as anger and sadness rise inside me. Why is my life so hard? What did I do to deserve this? My dad is dead. My mom hates me. I have no friends. June is spreading rumors about me. Vincent is a scumbag, and I’m so freaking tired of it all!
I want it all to stop!
I’m tired, so damn tired, and I just want it to stop. I don’t want to die, but I see no other solution. What is there to live for? I have no family, and Vincent will probably make it impossible for me to get a job in Sweden.
So what option is there?
Tears stream down my face as I look down, my gaze falling on a kitchen knife in front of me. Without even thinking about it, my hand reaches out and grabs it firmly. Images of cutting myself start to appear in my mind, and soon enough, I’m lifting the blade up to my skin, ready to make a cut.
But at the last minute, I don’t.
My mom is puking inside the living room, and I put down the knife on the kitchen counter with a shaking hand, willing myself to be calm and breathe. I’m frustrated, but my mom needs my attention, and I will be strong.
For now.
I will fight through this evening, but later, when my mom is fast asleep, then I will make another cut on my arm—a wound so deep that it takes my mind off the pain inside my heart so that I can finally breathe.
Who knows, maybe one day I will finally be brave enough to walk away from this life. Because after a life in hell, I hope to find heaven after death.
- Writer
