You're Nothing

MILES

Slap!

The sharp sting of my mother's hand fizzled on my cheek.

"What did you say?" Her voice was so low I felt it came from hell itself.

I swallowed before turning my head back to face her. Her fair skin was flushed in anger, and she almost matched her dyed strawberry blonde hair. She was a petite woman but as fit as an athlete. She ran four miles every morning to keep her perfect figure nice and tight, and she was beautiful with soft blue eyes, a small nose, and full pink lips fit perfectly inside her pale, heart-shaped face.

At least, that's what she looked like when she wasn't seething in anger. She looked almost feral with her lips curled, baring her teeth and her eyes wide and wild.

I looked nothing like her.

I stood at least a foot taller than her with olive skin and long, straight black hair that reached my ass. If I did have anything from her, it was my mouth, full and pink just like hers, but other than that, no one would assume she was my mother. She hated it when she'd introduced me, and people would say, "My she must look just like her father. I'd have never guessed!"

I'd get a beating at home after that.

"Answer me!"

I flinched, my mind snapping back to the present.

I knew she wouldn't take the news well. I had anticipated it. She never liked it when I acted on my own. It made me seem too... independent. But I was at my wits end.

"I said, I can't go to dinner." My voice trembled, and I knew the fight it thought I had was leaving me. I had to work.

This morning, she told me about having dinner with her new fiancé tomorrow.

Fiancé. As in, she was marrying someone. I was so shocked I simply nodded. Not that I could have said what I actually thought anyway. With my mother, it was her way or no way, and apparently, her fiancé wanted to meet the daughter of the love of his life. Gag. How he hadn't seen past my mother's vile nature was beyond me. Either way, I didn't care to go.

It wasn't as if she actually cared for me. I wasn't good at pretending we were some happy mother daughter family of two. I'd flinch when she touched me, faking affection. She's always hated me and never let me forget it.

I turned eighteen in just a week, and she wouldn't be able to keep her leash on me. I had a shift tonight. So no, I wouldn't make her stupid dinner.

My mother raised her hand, curling it into a fist, and swung it towards me. Before she could hit my face, I crouched down, curling myself into a ball as she pounded on my back. It was my defense mechanism when she went on a rampage.

"You little bitch!" Smack! "Do you think you can just do whatever you want because I've been busy? You don't have that freedom! I'm the one who provides for you!"

That was a bit of a stretch. She worked as a nurse, and she actually got paid pretty well, but not a single penny was spent on me unless we had to make appearances. Even the groceries she bought were off limits unless she gave me permission to eat her leftovers. I never wanted to eat it, but the first time I refused... it didn't end well.

I pretty much fended for myself. I'd been working at a diner across the tracks for three months now, trying to save enough to live on my own. I couldn't tell her about the job since I knew she'd force me to quit one way or another, so I took as many shifts as I could.

I squeezed my eyes shut against the sound of fists pounding onto my back. 'I guess new bruises will join the old ones,' I thought.

The beatings had become numbing to me. But I had gotten painstakingly good at putting myself in a small box, keeping everything that could hurt me outside. Even though my mother was yelling, it sounded muffled, and even though each pound of her fist hurt like hell, I imagined her pounding outside my little box trying to get in. It was like tricking my brain into thinking she couldn't reach me, tricking it into numbing the pain.

She continued on my back like a crazed gorilla for several more minutes, throwing a few kicks to my ribs before she finally stopped, leaning her head back to take steady breaths as if she just fucking relieved stress. It made me sick.

"Now," she started, straightening her shirt and smoothing out her pants, "tell me again, but keep that little shitty job of yours in mind.

I whipped my head at her, eyes wide. She knew.

"What? You thought I didn't know?"

My heart pounded in my chest as fear clawed its way up my spine. I was sure she could see it on my face because her eyes lit up in cruel amusement.

"Dont make me repeat myself. And say it with enthusiasm."

I hated it. I hated how she played me like a puppet, yanking my strings every which way, looking down at me with that cruel gleam in her eyes. I often wondered how much more I could take, but fear always crushed me. It made sure drag me back to bending to her will.

"I-I would love to have dinner."

I felt like I was going to throw up. Self-loathing hit me like a ton of bricks. I wanted to get up and tell my mother she could go fuck herself but the words only got as far as my mind.

"You will be at dinner and act accordingly." She squatted down, resting her forearms on her knees. She lifted my chin with the tips of her fingers and looked at me with mock tenderness. "Do I make myself clear?"

I nodded slowly.

"Now get the fuck out. I don't want to see your face."

I rose, turning to the door and as I opened it to walk out, I felt a hard kick on my back, and I stumbled forward, falling on the concrete porch on my hands and knees.

"Don't forget Miles," I heard from behind me. "You're nothing."

I flinched as she slammed the door. I stayed on my hands and knees, taking deep breaths and ignoring the stinging behind my eyes. I would not cry. I didn't see the point. Tears would never get me anywhere.

It wasn't her words that caused me pain. Or even the fact that she beat me just because she could. It was the fact that I was weak. That I couldn't find it in myself to stand up to her, or at least run away. She was like a chain wrapped around my neck, tightening every time I thought I had a sliver of control.

She was right. I was nothing.

My mother, Candice Valentine, was the only person I was afraid of. I didn't know how to defy her. Sometimes, I didn't even want to think about it. But I had to start. I was tired of living like this, with her beating me every day and fear being the only thing I felt.

I took one more breath before getting up and dusting off my clothes. The late night summer air hit my face, and I breathed it in, jealous of how it could flow every which way with nothing to hold it back. I wanted more than anything to be like that. To just float through time and space and feel free.

A buzzing vibrated in my back pocket, and I took out my phone. It was already past ten in the evening.

Kenzie: let's drink up bitch! address in the link. wear something sexy 😉

Looking down at myself, I sighed. I was in Jean shorts and a tank with a flannel with sleeves that I rolled up to my elbows. This was as sexy as it was going to get. I needed a drink anyway. Maybe a few. I looked back at my house. She wouldn't let me back inside for a few hours. I might as well try to have some fun. I texted my best friend Kenzie back.

Miles: omw

There was nothing better to do on a Friday night in our small town anyway.