As I woke up the next morning I initially didn't know why I felt so lousy.
It was a Saturday. A gorgeous, free day laid ahead of me and the sun was smiling down from a cloudless blue sky into my little room.
Slowly, the memories of last night's events returned.

I sat up and listened. From the kitchen, which was located directly underneath my room, I could hear the clatter of dishes, the burble of the coffee machine and two female voices.
Damnit, they were awake already!
My hastily thought up plan to grab myself a piece of toast and lock myself up in my room for the rest of the day or hang around outside, was now officially cancelled.
Stay calm, Kylie. You're not a little kid anymore. You can do this.

I got out of bed and went to the bathroom to get dressed.
I normally didn't get dressed before breakfast.
But I couldn't face her like this.
I needed some more time to prepare.
How should I face her?
Cold? Angry? Happy?
What was I supposed to say to her anyways?
Besides, I felt too vulnerable in my pyjamas.
It would be easier for me when I was made up.
I thought.
It was like assembling a sort of armour.

I slipped into a pair of black jeans that reached just below my knees and were being held together by a studded belt.
I then put on a maroon tank top, roughly pinned up my hair at the back of my skull, rimmed my eyes with black eyeliner and painted my lips red.
Even though I was finished I ended up tugging at my hair and applying more eyeliner until I realised what I was actually doing.
I was stalling for time.
My hands were drenched.
I was afraid.
This in turn made me angry again.
After all, this was my house!
Or at least more my home than hers!
And I wasn't the one that had messed up.
So, what was I even afraid of?

With my head held high I stepped out of the bathroom and began rumble down the stairs extra loudly.
The closer I came to the kitchen door the more my heart started pounding again and my throat became tight once more.
I felt sick and started slowing down automatically.
The voices in the kitchen had gone silent.
Of course, they must had heard me.
Now I started regretting being this loud.
I would have preferred to stand behind the door for a while, listening undetected.
Whatever! It was too late for that now.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door with a jolt.
Grams was standing at the sink, putting ham and cheese on a plate.
As always, she greeted me with a warm, loving smile.
"Good morning my darling, did you sleep well?" I forced myself to return the smile, stepped closer and gave her a kiss on the cheek.
"Morning Grams."
Now there was no more delaying.

I turned slowly towards the kitchen table in the corner of the room.
There she was.
In jeans, a simple, blue sweatshirt that Grams had probably lent her. '
When she came, she never had anything with her besides the clothes on her back.
Those were mostly torn and stained with filth, dust and blood.
Her long, light-blonde was tied up in a loose ponytail.
I remembered loving to brush and braid her hair, back when I was a little girl.
Sometimes we would spend days playing hair salon.
She'd do my hair and in turn I'd do hers.
Those were wonderful days in which I had her all to myself.
When I could feel that she was entirely here and her love only reserved for me.
The wall I had built up around me began crumbling already and I hated myself for it.

It only got worse when I met her ice-blue eyes.
They glanced at me tired, drained but also filled with tenderness.
"Hello Kylie.", she said quietly.
I swallowed hard.
"Hi Mum."
My gaze travelled over the bruise on her left cheek and the bloody tear in her eyebrow.
On her lips I could see another wound, encrusted with blood.
He seemed to have done a good job.
As usual.
The sentiment that had flared up for a moment was smothered by the anger and contempt that took over.

I sat down across the table from my mother and Grams promptly put a piece of toast on my plate, even though my appetite was long gone.
I didn't want to, but I couldn't stop staring at my mother.
She had grown older since the last time I had seen her.
But she was still beautiful.
A lovely woman in her late thirties.
Determined and intelligent, with a doctors degree and a shining diploma.
It was still hanging in my Gram's living room, inside a golden frame.
A reminder of what her beloved daughter could have been.
I had looked at it many times.
Why was she doing all this to herself?
Why?
I'd never understand.
I didn't even want to.
And she wasn't able to explain it to me.
That's why we'd stopped talking about it a long time ago.
But then, there was not much left to talk about.
We had always lived in two separat worlds.
From time to time she visited mine.
I never had access to hers.
I didn't even know where it was.
Grams had done everything to keep my away from it all.
Questions were strictly forbidden.
We didn't own a TV or a newsletter subscription.
There weren't any neighbours in a 6 mile radius.
We lived isolated in a small house at the edge of the forest.
Every day I had to walk a few hundred meters to the next bus stop to get to the tiny village where my school for the past six months, was located.

My mother studied me just as thorough and with quiet affection.
"You seem so grown up, Kylie. How old are you now?"
"16", I answered coldly and began to spread some jam on my toast.
Not even this she could remember!
"My birthday was last month." The accusation in my tone was unmistakable.
Mother lowered her gaze into her mug of coffee and fell silent.
"So? How long are you going to grace us with your presence this time?", I said pointedly and bit into my toast.
My mother's fingers clutched around her cup, but she didn't answer.
My grandma cleared her throat and put a gentle hand on her shoulder
"You can stay as long as you want, Harleen, you know that. Mr. Miller is looking for a temp in his shop right now. He doesn't pay much but maybe you could… ."
I burst out in cold, nasty laughter "You don't seriously think that she'll stay and find a job? She isn't here to build up a life or because she cares for either you or me! She's only here to lick her wounds and then go back to this bastard who only… ."

With a jolt my mother stood up and glared at me.
For a moment I thought, she was going to slap me, but then she let down her hand again and hissed "Don't ever talk that way about him, understood? You know nothing! Nothing about me and… Mr. J.!"
Now it was my turn to jump up from my seat and shout back "I don't even want to know! It's enough to see what he's doing with you! I don't care about your sick relationship!"
"This is love! This means there's good and bad times! He didn't mean it like that. Lately he's just… he… he's under great pressure. Nothing went as planned and when Bat… ."
"Harleen!", interrupted Grams angrily. "Be quiet!"

My mother sank back onto her seat.
I stared at her.
What was she talking about?
There it was again, the big mystery that I had been trying for so many years to unveil.
What exactly was my mother doing when she wasn't sitting at my Grams like a picture of misery getting patched up?
And who was this mysterious Mr, J.?
I didn't know anything about him.
Only recognized his signature in my mother's body and his ingeniousness from her words.
This man, whoever he was, made so many spots on her body hurt but also light up her eyes like no one else.
Not even me.
I used to feel a deep envy when I was younger.
He was taking my mother away from me.
Again and again.
When she came to us, she was always there just for me.
She played, painted and sang with me and I could feel that she truly loved me, despite it all.
But that never lasted long.

After a few weeks he came back, even though it was just in her head. He snuck into her thoughts like poison and took control of her mind. I could be standing right beside her and plead and scream she would only sit there and gaze into nothingness, her heart and head already back with him. Shortly after, her body would follow. I never knew it any different. I knew, they were together since I was born. About my father, I knew nothing. Not even his name. For the longest time that hadn't bothered me.

When I was younger it seemed normal to me that my family consisted of only my grandmother and mother.
I didn't know that there had to be a father to every child.
It was only when I entered school and visited my classmates at home that I realised something was missing.
I asked Grams but she only ever gave vague answers.
I rampaged and acted up in every way possible, but she wouldn't budge her assertion that she didn't know who my father was.
My mother apparently hadn't told her and she didn't want to talk about it anymore.
She loved me more than anything on this planet and asked if that wasn't enough to me?
Eventually, I gave up.
But my thoughts had kept cycling around it from time to time.
But now that I grew older, a suspicion had started rising up inside of me.
Be it only because I could never have imagined my mother laying eye upon any other man than him…
No! No, no, no!
I hastily suppressed any thought of it and brought my attention back to the here and now.

I looked at my mother disdainfully and hissed "Do whatever you want! If you're so stupid to let him give you shit over and over again, that's not my problem! I'm telling you only one thing, the guy doesn't love you! He's never loved you, you're only deceiving yourself!"
And on that note I spun around and stormed out of the kitchen, grabbed my jacket out of the hallway and made my way to the bus station.