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Welcome to my crazy world!
Hello and welcome to a new Thursday Taster,
the day when awesome writers all over the blogosphere come together to
give you tasty bits of their last fiction. You can find the list here.
This week again, let's continue with the argument between Frederique and her mother. It seems that they don't know how else to communicate. That's a bit sad. We start just where we left off last week when Frederique's mum asked her what she meant by emotional abuse.
"Just that," I said. "What is happening just now. You are denying everything about me, everything about my relationship with my dad. You made me feel guilty every single day about something I have no control over."
"I don't know what you put in her head last night but I'm not leaving her with you any longer," my mother said trying to put her hand on me again.
She was once again talking about me as if I wasn't here, she didn't even listen.
"It's your own damn fault, he didn't put anything in my head. I can think, I can think all by myself," I said.
"See," my mother answered, still turned toward my father.
"Look at me," I said.
She didn't move.
"Look at me because that might as well be the last time you see me," I said in a lower voice.
"Frederique, you need to calm down a little," my father said. "I suggest you let her stay here a little and we can talk about things when you calm down."
"I'm not letting her staying with you," my mother said she was still not looking at me.
I wanted to tell her that I hated her, because truly I hated her but I was afraid of regretting it later. Somehow the words couldn't get out. I walked away toward the house.
"Frederique come here immediately," she said trying to get past my father but he blocked her.
I smiled and I ran once again. I knew what my feelings toward her really were now, I had admitted them to myself. I wasn't proud of hating her but in a way I felt relieved. I didn't have to hide it from myself anymore.
I stayed behind the entrance door until I heard her car start and go away, I was glad my father didn't let her in. He was smart like that.
"Hey," he said coming in a bit later. "Things with your mother aren't easy, you just need to give each other a little time."
"I hate her dad," I said.
"Don't say things like that."
"But it's true, hating her is the only way for me not to hate myself," I said. "When she is here, I'm suffocating, I can't be myself, everything about me is wrong and abnormal and never ever good enough. All she can see is that I black out, she doesn't know anything else about me, and she is not interested. All she wants to know is how everything about me is affecting her life. When it's not about her, she doesn't care. Who are my friends? What books I like? What TV shows? If she can ever get one answer right she deem them ridiculous and just laugh it off at something that would stop. She doesn't care what I want to study or why? She only care about herself. What are people going to say about her if something goes wrong with me."
I could feel the tears coming to my eyes and maybe my father did too because he hugged me.
"It's never about me, it has never been, it's like I don't even exist," I said in his chest.
"It's my fault. I should never have let you alone with her, I'm sorry," my father said. "I should have fight for you."