I walk to my home. The feeling of loneliness engulfed me. I knew that when I will enter my house, my mom will yell at me for no reason. Most of the time it's because I try to not be at my place. I avoid her. She always yells at me for nothing. I don't want to spend my life hearing yelling all the time. It's like she passes her nerve on me. I'm surprised she hasn't become violent already.
Yeah, I'm a little bit scared of my mom. It's just that I don't know what she will do in the next fight.
I look up at my house. It was small and in a dirty white paint. I sigh, knowing what'll happen.
I unlocked the door and come in. My mom was waiting for me. Anybody could say that she looks worried, in a motherly kind of way, but what she says would surprise those people.
"Did you at least bring something to eat?"
I look at her, shocked.
"Or did you find a job, maybe?" she continued.
I didn't respond, which is really abnormal.
"Oh! So you expect that I make you live without nothing in return? That I'll let you sit on the couch without saying anything?"
It was all false. Every time that I was there, I do the laundry, I prepared the meal, and everything else. She's the one who lives on the couch and only work for a job who bring 20$ per week. If I could work, I would. But with the reputation of my mother in our little village and the fact that I got to quit school early because I've got to do the domestic tasks, nobody want to offer me a job. And I search really hard. Nobody likes me here. All of that because of my mom. I just couldn't take it anymore.
"I did nothing?" I said in a bitchy voice. "I try so hard to find a real job and I do everything in here. And all of that for what? To make sure that my mom yell at me every time that I return?"
"You did not just talk to me like that." She warned me.
"Yes, I did. Someone had to did it." I looked into her harsh brown eyes. For the first time of my life, I see nothing. Usually I convince myself that there's regret or pity, anything. But this time, I was completely sure, there was nothing except darkness. She didn't love like a mother should. I didn't matter to her.
And for that reason, I refuse to let a single tear fall from the corner of my eye. I will not waste sadness on someone who didn't love me.
"Maybe that's what dad did, huh?" I know I provoke her. This was the worst thing I ever said. And I realize it when I feel her hand hit my cheek.