Chapter 5: Mother
One night, about a half a year later after meeting Paul, I get home a little later than usual after seeing him.
I creak open the door and slide my body inside, my skirt getting caught in the door.
As soon as I'm through, I flick on a light and jump to see my "Mother" peering up at me over one of her romantic fiction books, her glasses on the rim of her nose like a librarian, sitting in her rocking chair.
She crosses her legs and leans back, a sly grin creeping across her face. I shut the door behind me and back up against it.
"Hello, Mother, what are you doing up at this late hour?" I say, in the proper way I'm supposed to talk to her, according to her many rules.
She sets down her book and stands up, walking over to me.
"Excuse me for asking, but where were you and why were you late?"
As much as I want to scream, I don't, I just keep quiet, as if I don't understand the question.
"Who were you with?"
I clear my throat.
"I was paying a visit to my Grandmother." I say, my voice hushed.
"LIES!" She yells, which makes me jump.
"What do you mean?"
"You were not with your Grandmother! I phoned her over an hour ago! How dare you lie to me! How dare you! I demand to know who you were with!"
My face drains of it's color and my eyes shoot to my feet. Then she backs up.
"You were with boys, weren't you?"
I don't answer, I just continue looking at my feet, like they've become very interesting.
"Talk to me Stella! As your mother I have a right to know!"
I pick my head up and look her straight in the eye.
"Alright, you want to know? Yes, I was with a boy."
Her face flushes and she bites her lip. Then, very quickly, she yanks my arm and pushes me onto the couch, where I sink into the cushions, too afraid to move. She drops on the cushion next to me and I turn to look at her slowly.
"Stella, how many times do I have to tell you? Boys are bad. You are too young to be attacked by their disgusting ways, their foul habits, and their rude behavior! They will take you and use you as a slave! They will only break your heart and use you to make money and to show you off for your beauty! You will be looked upon as a fool! You are NOT a fool, Stella. Don't pretend you are. Boys are vicious and cruel…"
"NOT ALL ARE LIKE THAT!" I scream, letting the anger that has been bubbling up inside of me for my whole life out. She looks taken aback.
"I KNOW A BOY WHO'S LOVELY! HE'S SWEET, HE'S CHARMING, HE'S HANDSOME, HE'S TALENTED, HE'S LOVING AND HE'S NOT ONE BIT CRUEL AND VICIOUS! HE WOULDN'T HURT A FLY! HE WOULDN'T PUNCH ME FOR A BILLION POUNDS! HE'D RATHER DIE THAN HURT ME! AND BESIDES, HOW DO YOU KNOW THAT HE'S NOT JUST A FRIEND? BECAUSE THAT'S ALL HE IS! A FRIEND!"
She opens her mouth to speak, but I keep going.
"WHAT DO YOU KNOW ABOUT BOYS ANYWAYS? WHERE'S THE FATHER IN THIS HOUSE? I DON'T THINK THERE'S BEEN A BOY IN THIS HOUSE FOR OVER A MILLION YEARS, SENSE THAT'S HOW OLD YOU ARE! HOW DO YOU THINK IT IS FOR ME, SAYING THAT I DON'T HAVE A DAD IN MY HOUSE, AND MY MUM IS A FAKE! A BLOODY FAKE! SHE JUST TOOK ME IN TO GET MONEY! IS THAT ALL I AM TO YOU? YOU SOUND LIKE THE DISCRIPTION OF BOYS TO ME! I THINK I'D BE BETTER OFF WITH PAUL MCCARTNEY THAN WITH YOU!"
Then I stop, dead in my tracks at the mention of his name. A thin smile appears on her lips as she reaches out for my arm. She moves her thumb back and forth across my skin softly.
"So that's this boy's name? Paul McCartney?"
I'm trembling from yelling so much.
"Yes, that's his name. You can't do anything to him, you evil woman."
She smiles and gazes down at my arm. She reaches into her pocket and takes out her cigarette lighter and feels it around in her hand.
"I don't want you seeing him anymore."
I shake my head. "You can't stop me."
She clears her throat. "I said I don't want you seeing him anymore."
Again I shake my head. "No."
"No?" She says in a whisper.
"No." I repeat.
She sighs. "I didn't want to have to do this to you, Stella, but you leave me no choice."
She flicks the cigarette lighter on and holds it so it's touching my skin. The little flame licks my arm, and the pain surges through my arm.
I scream and try to move my arm away, but it's no use.
The smell is almost unbearable and I cough to escape it.
Finally, after what seems like years, she flicks the flame off and pulls me into the bathroom. There is a small mark where the flame has burned my skin, and I try not to look at it, because it only makes it hurt more.
She reaches into the cupboard behind the mirror and pulls out a bottle of rubbing alcohol and a cotton swab.
I struggle to get away, but she keeps her grip. She then dips the swab into the bottle and drops it where she burned me.
I scream at the top of my lungs as the burning sensation surges up my arms and around my body.
Tears run down my cheeks and she just sits there with a blank expression.
Then, she takes it off and throws it away, putting the alcohol back into the cupboard and drags me upstairs into my bedroom, where she locks the door without saying a word, leaving me alone.
I bang on the door for a while, and then realize that I'm not sure if I want to go down there again. I decide to go to the window, but it's too high up to jump.
I look at my arm and let the tears fall down my cheeks. I desperately want to talk to Paul, George, John or even Pete or Stu, to tell them what my horrible "Mother" has done. I want them to know, so they would call the police and take her off to jail.
I visualize the scene over and over in my head.
My emotions are getting to my head and making me top-heavy, so I change into my nightgown and tuck myself under the covers, falling asleep quickly, waiting for my saviors.