Posted by Mrs. Emery
From Tea: “Get back inside young lady!” your mother shouts from the porch.
Write for 10 minutes. Post your piece to comments.
Posted on May 28, 2015, in Writing Prompt. Bookmark the permalink. 1 Comment.
~ Watching Through the Window ~
“Get back inside, young lady!” Mom shouts from the porch.
“Why should I, huh?” I screamed right back. The weekly fights had turned into daily and the yelling had become absent-mindedly screaming without any rhyme or reason. I never pictured my relationship with my mom to turn out like this. I use to promise and swear to her that I would never be a bratty teenager who hates her mom. I can’t say I hate her, but there are definitely those times where-
“Bea!” She interrupted me, again. “I don’t have to give you a reason as to why you need to get back in here. Do as I say and come here.” Uh-oh, the vain popped, not a good sign.
“Mother,” I said, irritated. “I am not coming back inside.”
“You may think you’re all grown up and smart, but I swear to you, Bea, if you run away with him, you will regret it. Don’t you dare come crying yourself back to this house. There won’t be a dam thing for you, I’m telling you.”
She stared me down as she threw my other shoe on the porch. I had been forcefully putting them on as she came stomping downstairs just 10 minutes before this had spiraled into me threatening to leave and never come back. “You were gonna have to deal with my departure sooner or later, mother. It’s only best that I leave with someone who actually loves me than stay with someone who doesn’t. You should be proud,” I mocked her, glaring playfully, ready for her to fire back. I can’t say I look for the fights, but I definitely don’t give up without one.
I could see Phillip in the corner of my eye, waiting in his car like a sad puppy. I knew he wanted me to go though; he’s the one that talked me into leaving this morning. My father had kicked him out once he made the connection of the placing of my shoes, the 2 bags on the porch and the one in my hand. It hurt me the most to leave him. Daddy did always love me, and I knew that. But mom never cared. The only reason she was fighting so hard right now was because Daddy was watching through the window, like he always did. Daddy watched as me and mom screamed. I would leave and then daddy would threaten to leave her. Everyone knew the outcome of this situation, even the neighbors. I was gonna leave the house, and this life. Daddy would watch us scream and then mom would go inside. Daddy would get mad for letting me leave so easily and then he’d divorce her. It was inevitable and I could already see the children pulling their parents out, proclaiming, “It’s the Prude’s, they’re at it again!” as if we were some weekly comedy show.
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