Okay, okay, I suck, I know. My writers block on this story is still there, and it won't go away! But I'm trying, and I'm sorry if everything seems all mixed around and confused like I don't know what I want to happen. I'm doing this for fun. I also started on my new story, and I'm really excited!

X-X-X-X-X-X

Nine days later…

The sound of Jimmy Choo's clinkering on the hard wooden floor flooded into Angela's head. The sound was being drilled into her head, and she could do nothing to drown it out. She already attempted turning the volume to the maximum on her ipod, but the clinking got more rapid and obnoxiously close with every step.

She groaned as her bedroom door burst open, and on the waiting end, was a furious, steaming mother. She fell onto her back, and turned to her side, burying her head into a pillow that lay on the unmade bed.

"Go away Brooke…" She murmured through the pillow, but Brooke undeniably did not.

Instead Angela's cover's were torn from her body, and draped messily onto the floor, and her mother angrily pulled at her daughter's body until Angela gave in and rolled to face her mother.

"What the hell were you thinking Angela? What the hell has gotten into you?" Brooke screamed uncontrollably. Her voice raising with every questioning word, making Angie flinch slightly, cringing too.

"I don't know what you're getting at." She replied lazily. Ever since she had returned to California, she seemed to be drifting farther apart from her mother, and during her last days in New York, she drifted even farther from Daddy.

"To hell you don't know what I'm getting at…" Brooke irritably mocked her daughter, and then she placed her hands on her daughter and shook her lightly.

"Are you trying to kill yourself? Have I not taught you from my own experiences?!" Brooke ranted, as her shaking hands loosened on her daughter's small frame.

With that, Angela knew what Brooke was getting into. Well she had her options. Drugs, drinking, sex, and then came the eating disorder. Just dandy.

"If your talking about-"

"Making yourself sick?! How stupid are you? You dumb, dumb child." Brooke never reacted to anything at all, this way. She never yelled juvenilely.

Angela remained speechless, feeling shame once again. When she first considered bulimia, she had failed to go through with it. But then things only got worse, her relationships, everything, and it seemed so easy.

"Mom, I-"

Brooke shook her head, holding up her pointer finger sentencing her daughter to halt.

"No, no, no, no, no. You will not address me while I am speaking to you. How could you? After everything I have told you about. I told you, you could get away with the drinking, and with the boys. I told you Angela! And –"

She allowed herself to clear her throat, and wipe any excess tears from her eyes.

"- from my accidents, from my binging, how could you not know? How could you still go on? And then your father finds out before I do?! Where did I go wrong? You saw me collapse, twice. You saw me being taking into therapy and you saw me getting put into the ambulances. And it was worse when I was your age! Damn it Angela, how?!"

The tears managed to find a way to escape Brooke's red face and the guilt traveled through Angela's body, taking up every inch of available space.

"Mom, Dad wasn't supposed to know! You weren't supposed to know! It's not like I told him! He walked in on me, it isn't my fault!"

As she spoke, her body felt limper and limper, and she couldn't clearly manage her words. She sunk into herself, and hugged her knees rocking herself while her mother bawled, watching.

"No, you are not getting away with this Angela! Do you know how upset I was? Do you know how upset your father was? He knew for seven days Ang, and he couldn't say anything because he didn't know how to! Your sixteen, you have everything! Your body is, well, I'd kill for it."

Her mother angrily sympathized, which confused both women. She was furious at her daughter, but she couldn't manage to blame Angela. She blamed herself for her daughter's risky actions.

"You don't' want to know mom! The truth would kill you, and I hoped it would do the same!" Angela stated, yelling louder than before, perching herself up onto her knee's facing her mother directly.

She was prepared to move on, she had more to say but she was interrupted.

The interrupting smack hit Angela right in the face. Her mother's hand strongly brushed by her face, leaving a large red handprint. The sting didn't kick in until three second after, and she sat, holding her own hand against her cheek, her mouth a gap.

Brooke watched as her daughter sat in pain, clenching her face, knowing that she was responsible for that. Her hand was pressed up against her mouth, shocked in every way at her childish and seemingly harmless action.

What kind of mother was she? She was sounding like her own. But she was doing it for her daughter's own good…mom, you still don't' slap her!

The thoughts moved from one side of her brain to the other, as she stepped back, slowly, watching her daughter watch her back, with stinging, fiery eyes.

Before pressing her own body against the doorway, Brooke opened her mouth, only to allow the faint sound of Angela escape her lips.

"Get out." Angela demanded bluntly. She watched with the fire growing wilder, if looks could kill, her mother would have had 3 degree burns all around.

Brooke looked down, and bit onto her bottom lip, obeying her innocent daughter's simple request. She stepped out into the hallway, and s lowly took one step with every breath.

She had reached her point, and she had gone over it. She needs help. She didn't know what she needed.

XXX

Okay, extremely short chapter, it seems that way lately. I guess the writers block is really taking its toll. I mean, I've started writing my new story, and I'm incredibly excited. But I guess I need more help with getting inspired for this one.

Please review despite my lack of posting and length.

Emily!