The main question I'm asking myself at the moment is: "If there are several universes, which I'm convinced there are, In what are they contained?" I really need to read more books on the topic. Anyway, today, Frederique is going for the kill! I think she really got guts because there isn't many people who would dare to say that to someone's face... me included.
"Let's not talk about my personality as a parent or yours," my father said, "Frederique is 17 years old, she will soon be 18, she will go to university to build her own life, it is our duty as parents to encourage her in her efforts to become a better person."
I tried to sooth the grip my mother had on me, tried to remove her hand from my arm but she was clinging harder which each of my father's words as if she was trying to avoid them sinking into her by sinking into something else.
"Let go of me, you're hurting me," I said.
They both turned toward me and she seemed to realize what she was doing but there was still no way she was going to acknowledge it.
"I'm not hurting you, stop exaggerating, I don't know what your father has put into your mind but..."
I finally managed to get her hand away.
"Are you all right?" My dad asked.
"I'm fine," I said pulling up my sleeve.
I had red marks on my skin but nothing that would last too long. I was sure I was going to bleed, maybe I was exaggerating. Truth was, she freaked me out at time when I was living with her but today, she freaked me out even more. I wanted to hide behind my dad, but that wouldn't really have helped my case about being a real person who could take care of herself. And I needed to face her while he was still here just in case. If she was to come and get me at the university when I was alone, I wouldn't know what to do. Running away once had been hard enough, I didn't know if I would be strong enough to do it a second time without support. I could already see her entering my class or my dormitory and dragging me out.
"What are you trying to imply? That I mistreated her," my mother said.
My dad sighed. I understood why they had divorced, there was no way to deal with her rationally and how would you ever deal with someone irrationally anyway?
"I know you care about her," my father said.
"But I do," I answered.
"What did you just say?" My mother asked.
"I do, I say that you mistreated me, emotional abuse is abuse," I said.
"What is that even supposed to mean? Who took care of you? Not your father, me! Who spend days and nights at the hospital for you? Who had to go everywhere you went and warned people about your condition? Do you think it's easy to have a daughter like you? Do you think I enjoyed to see you black out and not remembering where you were?"
"That's not what I'm saying," I said.
"Then what is it? Because I want to know, I want to know what is so great about your father who never took care of you and what is so terrible about me that you want to run away?" my mother said.
Answer to last week's comment.
Sorry Mangus, you can't find the rest of it anywhere, you'll have to wait for the Thursdays to come until I manage to get it edited and published.
Angelica, I'm afraid it's going to be all or nothing.
Jessica, thanks, I'm trying to make a nasty and realistic character. I'm glad you like it and hate her.
Follow my blog with Bloglovin
Find us on Google+
Oh bless her. Good on her for standing up to her mother like that. Very intriguing story here. xx
ReplyDeleteWell, one more tie to cut then.
ReplyDelete