A beautiful storm *COMPLETE*

A day in the life

I decided to walk home this afternoon. The weather was beautiful and I didn’t want to see my mother any sooner than I had to. She was always nagging me about something. The dishes weren’t done. The house wasn’t clean enough. Dinner wasn’t bought, cooked, and served. I internally groaned just thinking about it. Madeline, I don’t work this hard for you to f**k off. I make the money, you make sure the home is taken care of. I’ve been hearing that same line for the last six years. Thanks a lot mom, for letting me be a kid. I walked slowly, taking my time, and enjoying nature. I observed every tiny detail. The way that the leaves were sprouting on the trees. The rainbow of blooming spring flowers. The smell of pollen in the air. Not that I really enjoyed the smell, but more so what it signified. Trees, flowers, shrubs, they were all starting to bloom. Every year, as soon as I could smell it in the air, I knew that the next few months would make for beautiful walks. I always wished that I had a camera. I would capture a moment of everything that caught my eye. Outside of art, I love photography. I made a mental note to make sure that was my first personal splurge when I finally left this place.

As I walked through the door, I was greeted by my mother and her regular drug dealer/f**k boy. He was only a few years older than myself, but that never stopped either of them. She treated him to s****l favors in exchange for drugs. While she looked at their relationship more in a business aspect, he was possessive over her. He knew that she slept around, but thought it was only about the money. She’d never admit it, but she loved the attention that being a p********e gave her, so I found that sometimes she’d just go around without the promise of money. The way that he was with her, it made me sick. Not sure how you are cool with using a person for your own personal gain, but when they use others for their personal gain, then it’s not okay. Though I respected her decision to make money, I didn’t really agree with it. I’m sure she didn’t aspire to be a p********e when she grew up. But it wasn’t just about the money. It was about the high. She was always chasing that high.

“Madeline, it’s always so nice to see you.” f**k boy smiled. His name was Peter, but I didn’t think that he deserved to referred to by his given name. Dude gave me the creeps. I tried to avoid him when he was around as much as possible, but I’d noticed my mom bringing him here more frequently. I tried to continue to my room when my mother yelled “It’s rude not to stop and talk to the both of us.” I stopped in my tracks, turned around and faked a smile. “Sorry mother. Always nice to see you too, Peter” I gritted out his name. He looked me up and down, grinning. I wanted to vomit. He was definitely a creep. “How was school today?” my mother asked. “Fine. I got pushed into a locker because apparently you f**ked Mr. Thompson.” My mother gasped. F**k boy looked p**sed. “Who told you that?” my mother asked angrily. “Charlotte, when she pushed me into a locker and then slapped me in the face. “I used to hide the bullying from her, but I just didn’t have the energy to do that anymore. Or the care. She wasn’t worried about how her decisions affected me, so I didn’t worry about how my mouth affected her. “Well, it didn’t happen like that. Her father approached me at the bar.” she said, flipping her hair off of her shoulder. She looked nervous, surely because f**k boy thought she worked solely for money. If he had half a brain, he might see through her. I just rolled my eyes and headed back to my room. After closing the door, I could hear their heated argument through the walls. She’d be pi**ed at me later. I internally groaned, seriously tired of dealing with this sh*t.

I cooked spaghetti for dinner. The whole meal cost me about three dollars, so it was something that I made often. Every once in a while, I splurged on a loaf of Italian bread, butter, and garlic. My mother always complained when I didn’t, but lately, I’ve been saving every extra cent, so tonight, no bread. My birthday was three weeks away and the day after I turn eighteen, I’m outta here. “Madeline, don’t you think that if you’re going to cook such a lousy meal you could at least cook the bread that we love so much?” my mother whined. God, she was like a child. You’d think our roles were reversed. I tried to rein in my frustration. “Not this week. Unfortunately, it just wasn’t in the budget.” I faked sad, hoping that she wouldn’t think too hard about it. She squinted her eyes at me. She’d given me 100 dollars for everything this week. We needed some larger household items, like laundry detergent and toilet paper, but I was usually better at stretching her money, and she knew it. Instead of calling me out, she simply looked over to Peter with puppy dog eyes. “You’re right Mads, money has been tight with me not working as much and all.” I’m not sure he was really buying her story, but I’m not really in the mood to care. F**k boy left after dinner. He was in a foul mood ever since I’d mentioned Charlotte’s step dad, and no matter how hard my mother tried, he wasn’t buying it. Not my problem though. Maybe my mother should be more careful not to have her problems poison my days with her problems.