Ciao Fanfickers. Not a word? Oh well. This is a story I wrote with Foolish Eyes... I strongly suggest you check her out. Please read and review whether you like it or not. So... Go!
Life will flash before my eyes
So scattered and lost
I want to touch the other side
And no one thinks they are to blame
Why can't we see
That when we bleed, we bleed the same?
--Muse, "Map of the Problematique"
"You don't get it, do you? She's a brat," Phil yelled at my mom, Renee.
"Where am I going to send her, Phil? She's my daughter." My mother's voice was troubled and rough, and I swore I heard it crack slightly. I slid my back down the wall that I had planted my ear against. I didn't want to listen anymore, but with the volumes of their voices and the glass objects breaking in the other room, it was hard not to.
"Fine, Renee. Do what you want. She's not my problem," he sneered, and I heard a door slam.
"Phil!" she shrilled. "Phil!"
I could hear Renee's footsteps as she chased after him yet again.
I dragged myself up to my bed, not wanting to hear anymore, and immediately reached for my music player and shoved the headphones into my ears. I didn't care what song was playing, but I still turned it up to full volume, trying to block out the sounds of yet another heated debate.
I quickly fell asleep—I was accustomed to this routine. Listen to fight, fall asleep, and wake up only to pretend nothing had happened. I was getting really sick of being lied about to my own overly trusting mother.
I woke up the next morning, took a freezing shower, and headed downstairs to start another day of playing dumb. The smell of burnt pancake batter emanated from the stainless steel kitchen. Renee turned around at the sound of my softly pattering footsteps.
"Hey Bells," she greeted somewhat cheerfully with a faltering smile. I walked over to the pantry to grab a near-empty box of Fruity Pebbles and a glass bowl out of the cupboard.
"Morning," I greeted in my usual flat tone. This morning was no different than most others except for the blackened pancakes on the stove. Renee never cooked unless she was trying to lighten the blow of a serious matter with an attempt at good housekeeping.
"Oh, honey," Renee said with a slight whine of disappointment in her voice. "I made you pancakes. You like pancakes, don't you, baby?" She held up the skillet with a hopeful expression on her more-than-weary face.
I hated pancakes.
"Oh, yeah, of course." I smiled weakly and turned to put my breakfast materials back in their rightful places. I didn't have the heart to make her feel like a worse mom than she already was. There was obviously something on her mind and I didn't want to contribute to her worries.p
Renee smiled a little and slid the overly browned pancakes onto a plate, buttering them with a steak knife. I tried to hold back a small chuckle at my mother's naivety. She set the plate in front of me after drenching the poor, dead pancakes in syrup. I tried not to throw up at the mixed odors of my least favorite foods. Renee sat down next to me, watching me with innocent blue eyes until I took a dreadful bite. I chewed the gooey, burnt wad of half-cooked batter, resisting the overwhelming urge to gag.
"So? How did I do?" she asked, her expression still weary. I was suddenly very worried about her. How much had I missed after I had fallen asleep?
I swallowed the awful crap with a lump in my throat, willing myself not to dry heave. "Great." I even added a small smile for effect.
"Oh, yay," she whispered a little breathlessly, looking down at her twiddling thumbs. "Look, Bella…"
"Yes?" I asked after a moment of silence.
Renee tugged at the ends of her short brown hair. "Do you remember Esme that I used to tell you about?" She looked up at me with her wide cerulean eyes. I wracked my brain for the face that matched the somewhat familiar name.
"Not really. Refresh my memory." I'd heard numerous stories of my mom's best friends from high school but I couldn't really remember if I had met her.
"She used to come to your ballet recitals when she came to visit," Renee offered, thin eyebrows furrowing on a sun-browned forehead.
"No wonder I don't remember her."
My mom laughed shortly before returning back to her abnormally worried face. "Well, she got married to a doctor… I never thought she of all people would settle down…" She seemed to be muttering to herself at this point, and her expression was a little less negative than before. "She has three kids now, all around your age… She finally quit that stupid aircraft program..."
"Mom"—I couldn't call her Renee to her face—"what are you getting at here?"
Renee let out a heavy exhale. "Bella, honey, you remember what I was like after"—she gulped—"after… Ch-Charlie… died…" I saw a thin line of tears forming on her eyes. I nodded in response—I hated talking about this. "And you know that after all that time, Phil was the only person who could fill that space."
I nodded again. I didn't want anything I said to upset her, knowing that I was most likely set to blurt out how she'd gotten so attached to me, not wanting to lose me too, and how I'd never seen her cry so much in those two and a half dark years.
"I've been with him for almost two years, but you know that. Every relationship has its issues, and if we want to keep Phil in our lives, we're going to have to do our best to make things livable for each one of us." She began to pick at a manicured fingernail, which indicated that she was stressed and nervous. I didn't like where this conversation was headed.
Renee continued. "Sweetie, before I say this, you need to know that I love you more than life itself and only want what's best for you—"
"Just say it already, Mom." My voice was low and almost ominous. Renee looked startled but took a breath and proceeded nonetheless.
"Um… okay then… um—" she sputtered. I was becoming angrier by the second.
"What is it?" I hissed through my teeth.
"We're sending you to live with Esme." Her voice was flat and inflectionless.
I stood up quickly, suddenly irate. "What the hell are you talking about?" I nearly yelled.
"Honey, Phil is going to start traveling with the team soon, and—"
"Are you serious? I'm your fucking daughter! You're really going to choose that selfish son of a bitch over your own flesh and blood?" I was further infuriated by her calm demeanor. However, she suddenly became defensive.
"I'm not choosing anyone. I'm making the best decision for this family!" She was now standing as well.
"You call this a family? You're sending me off to live with someone I don't ever recall meeting so you can follow Phil around like some lost puppy!" I didn't realize that I was jabbing my finger in the air toward her.
"You shut your mouth! We wouldn't be living like we are if it weren't for Phil. I just thought you might want to live in one place instead of riding around the country with me and my husband." Renee crossed her arms over her chest, obviously trying to control some anger.
I was slightly taken aback by her ounce of consideration for me and my wellbeing. However, the usage of her and Phil as an entity rather than me and her, how it always had been, made the rage return at full force. I didn't remember a time when I had ever been this angry, especially at my own mother.
"Jesus, Mom! Sometimes I don't even feel like I know you anymore. You used to have a mind until your bastard of a husband took control of it. Ever since Charlie died, you've been an entirely different person," I shouted, unable to stop myself. Renee looked down, bewildered, and slumped back down into her seat. I tried to ignore the tug of guilt in my stomach.
"Your flight leaves Saturday night. I suggest you start packing," she stated in a cold, cutting voice that fiercely contradicted the sunlight pouring through the two story windows that exposed the desert landscape.
I turned on my heel, absolutely furious. I nearly stomped up the stairs and had almost made it to my room before Renee said one last thing.
"I'd pack your raincoat if I were you. The weather is pretty damp in London."
I'm still creating a playlist for this and if you look on Foolish Eye's profile she will soon have a link to her playlist for the story.
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