“You need to understand that the type of anger you have is fixable. We can take you to therapy.” It was as if she was trying to come up with a solution when there wasn’t one.
“There is no reason to be fighting in school. Do you have any idea what kind of parent it makes me look like?” She wiped away any lingering tears, her face turning cold. I knew what she was doing.
Coming up with excuses to make me stop, to make me feel guilty. Once upon a time it had worked. It had made me think through things before reacting. Now it did nothing. My only reaction was a fist to someone else’s face, and then there was the things I could do with my dick, but I wasn’t about to make my mom a grandma any time soon. I just liked to fuck.
I blinked my eyes closed and took a deep breath trying to calm myself. I could feel the burn of acid rising from my stomach and up into my throat. It burned almost as much as the painful distance I was putting between us did.
I was beyond fucked up, and I was barely over legal age. I had a long ass road ahead of me. I couldn’t bear to drag her down with me. I knew more than anyone that my mom didn’t need this shit. After everything life had already given her, with being a single parent, and doing all that she could on her own for years, then to put up with the shit I was doing on top of it all.
Yeah she deserved better from her son.
Still, I was selfish. I needed to do what was best for me. Not what was best for her emotions, or what she felt was best for me. My mother didn’t understand that the best thing for me was to hurt other people, when she should’ve based that off of the amount of pain I’d caused her.
“Been there, done that.” I ignored the rest of whatever it was she had said. Therapy was a waste of time and money. Instead of focusing on the conversation at hand, I enveloped her small frame in a hug allowing her warmth to unthaw my cold heart. I had to remind myself everyday that she wasn’t the reason for my pain and she was the only constant in my life.
Moments of silence lingered between us. I was praying the conversation was over, and I was positive it was until I noticed she wasn’t returning the hug.
I should’ve known then that something was up. I felt dumb expressing my emotions and knowing they weren’t accepted. I pulled away from her, staring down at her, my tall frame looming over her small one. My hands balled into tight fists. I felt fucking stupid expressing myself to her.
“I’ve made a decision on a few things, and I think it would be best if you went to live with your father for awhile. It might better your choices, and not only that, but it might give you a chance to rekindle that relationship?” Her voice wobbled as she spoke, as if she was afraid to even say something to me.
The air in my lungs froze, and my body flooded with the strongest desire to destroy than it ever had before. It was an instinct of mine to take and break the very things in front of me. My glare was icy cold as I forced myself to calm down.
“You’re fucking insane!” So much for calming down.
I continued, “No let me rephrase that: you’re completely dumb to even think that would help in the slightest way.” I had to step away from her.
I was too afraid that I would do something stupid like lash out at her. Air filtered into my lungs, but it still felt as if I couldn’t breathe. I was suffocating. Everything seemed to be closing in around me; each breath bringing the walls closer together.
“I’m not going anywhere,” I refused, my eyes narrowing at her. The darkness that loomed around me was starting to take effect. It was so much easier to turn off the pain than it was to deal with it. I didn’t hate my father; hate wasn’t a good enough word for how I felt about him. No, I wanted nothing to fucking do with him. The way he treated us, the way he treated my mother, the way he just completely abandoned us.