I open my old oak door to here my mother yelling for me again for dinner. I walk down the corridor filled with paintings of my self inflicted mother, here alcoholic friends, and a burnt to the crisp picture of my Father. I may have never known him, however he is as bad as my Mother for leaving me with here. I enter the kitchen and living room which held little to nothing. A small couch, and tiny television, and normal kitchen stuff.
"GET YOUR ASS IN HERE AND EAT," my Mother yelled. "You ungrateful little bitch."
"Yes mother," I replied back annoyed. I walk to the table to see and olive dish. I don't know the name to it though. I sit down on the seat farthest from her and farthest from the table. "Um... mother, you know I'm allergic to olives. Right?"
"I DONT CARE YOU LITTLE BITCH! EAT IT!" She swung her at me, with a horrible amount of aim to actually cause any harm, I simply take a small step to the left. However when I do this she pushes me, my head hitting the wall slightly.
"No." The pain creaking in my voice, however still filled with confidence. Well I'll have a bruise later.
"WHat Did You Say?"
"No, I don't want to risk my life by eating that. Living here is enough to kill me."
"YOU LITTLE BITCH." She shoot up from her seat, knocking the table over in the process. Sending food and liquids all over the place. Covering the walls and landing on my pants, which I simply perish off. "Clean this all up!"
"Okay," she started to pack up and leave with here slutty dress and an enormous amount of makeup on.
" I want this all to be cleaned up before I come home." Like I will.
"Have a good time f'ing with your boyfriend. How old is he, my age."
"He actually 22."
"Ahh, so I'm only eight years younger."
"I HATE YOU. YOU LITTLE BITCH." She slammed the door in my face, almost breaking the door. My mother doesn't deserve the name Mom nor for me to call her mother. I just call her that because I don't know her reall name.
"Love yah to." I say sarcastically. I walk softly back to my room and begin to cry right by my window. I look around at the paintings covering my walls. A little island with a pirate ship in sight. Is seemed so happy yet at the same time so dark and cold. Mother told me my Father drew it when he was 'good'. She referees to him as pirate, however I think of him as a good man some of the time. He left a woman he hates. Mother had said she didn't know she was pregnant tell after he left, so I son have much an opinion other than that.
I want to run away. It would be the logical thing to do. However, she has a way of finding me unlike any other. I could be on the other side of the world and she would find me. Take me home and scream at more. I wish I was in a different world than. Like a fairy tale. Like snow white and the seven dwarves, Cinderella, or even Little red riding hood.
"Why do I believe in such childish things?" I say to my self. When I was little, every time I spoke of a fairy tale mother would hit me in the arm. One time she left a mark too. It's clear to see to this day.
"That's right," I remembered why. "I'm a Darling. That makes sense." Fairy tales run though out our history. We are related to the grim brothers. Also related to the original authors of many fairy tales. "I just, believe. I believe God dam it."As soon as I said this a shadow grabbed my hand and pulled me out side breaking the window. The hand carries me over the streets of small town California. I Will be never to be seen again. Well at least mother will never be able to find, were ever this shadow is taking me.