Okay, first off, I would like to thank Invader Johnny, who has literally been reviewing every chapter yet! Of course I'm grateful too everybody who's been reading and reviewing, but I figured this deserved a special thank you :)
Chapter 7. –Home
Where we love is home –home that our feet may leave but not our hearts.
~Oliver Wendell Holmes
I was sitting in the backseat of Marissa Benson's car. Ever since Melanie's death, I hadn't slept longer than seven, eight at the most, once. And now that I was going back to school, out of all times, now I overslept myself –even with an alarm clock set.
When Freddie rang the doorbell this morning, ready to leave any second, he looked right in the eyes of a very sleepy Spencer, who hadn't been able to drag me out of bed since he was still asleep himself.
I hurried myself out of bed and in to my clothes, but of course we were way too late to cycle to school. Luckily, Marissa had her day off and offered to drive us.
"You know mom, I could have driven us ourselves. I do have my driver-license now." Freddie said. Marissa sighed. "Yes, I know, but then I wouldn't have had the car all day!" She justified her action. "Okay, and where were you planning on going today, exactly?" Freddie asked.
I hid a smile as Marissa tried to make all kinds of excuses. Neither I nor Freddie hardly ever drove. Me because I hadn't exactly passed my driving exam. –Stupid old lady; she was blocking my way! And Freddie because his mother hardly ever let him. Her son was seventeen years old, but her overprotection for him hadn't gotten any less yet –I wondered if it ever would.
"You okay?" Freddie asked as we were walking into the schoolhouse. I rolled my eyes. "Yes, of course I'm okay!" I said annoyed. I really wasn't okay, I was afraid of any condolences might offered from teachers or kids. I was afraid I'd get emotional for everyone to see. I was terrible afraid of seeing my mother this afternoon. –But what business was that of him?
No, to everyone else, I was okay. I had to be, in order to ever be okay again to myself.
The school day flew by surprisingly quickly. Did you ever notice how the time crawls by when you're waiting for something fun to happen, but then when you know something terrible is going to happen, that same amount of time goes by ten times faster? –I hate that; ought to be the other way around.
Spencer, who'd agreed into picking us up from school, stopped by an ugly, neglected house. Obviously the home of some very vulgar and antisocial owners.
Also known as the Puckett residence.
My hands were cold and sweaty. "Just keep driving, I changed my mind." I wanted to say. But I didn't. I was going inside. No matter what. "Are you sure you want to go all alone? I could go with you." Spencer said. I shook my head. "No. I want to go alone."
"I'll see you guys at home, okay?" I said before hopping out of the car, leaving no more room for comments. I walked to the door, and rang the dusty old doorbell. I waited several minutes before she finally showed up.
The door swung open. "Well if it ain't Samantha Puckett!" A wave of alcohol immediately hit me. It was enough to make me turn around and leave, right away. But I didn't. "I came to talk mom. Can I come in?"
She moved aside. "Why of course, Samantha." I hated the pejorative way she said my full-given name. It smelled awful inside the house –even worse then I remembered. It smelled like alcohol and cigarettes, like dirt and rotten food. But above all it smelled like death.
How applicable.
We both sat ourselves down at the big, dirty and broken couch in the living room –although I wondered how anyone could live here. "So, Samantha! Whatcha wanna talk about?" my mom asked in her drunken, slurring language.
"Well, this!" I snapped. "Would you just look around you? Look at yourself? Everything in here is broken, or very, very dirty –and so are you." I said. "You're drunk, and I dare to say that that's not an exception."
First she looked stunned –shocked. Then fuming with anger. "How dare you speak to me like that? I'm still your mother, whether you like it or not!" she said. "Yeah, and I'm still your daughter. Whether you like that or not!" I threw her comment back at her.
"Mom, we have to do something about this, we need to talk." It was then that I realized it was absolutely no use to talk to her while she was this drunk. "Mom, why don't you go take a shower, then I'll make you some coffee." I said.
She didn't respond at all. She just laughed. Was she laughing at me? Her laugh was hollow, as she brought another flask to her mouth. That's where I lost it. I jumped up, and yanked the flask out of her hand. I threw it on the floor, where it broke into thousands of little pieces. "Stop it!" I screamed. "Just stop it!"
My mother stood up, her eyes filled with anger. "How dare you." She lisped. "How dare you!" Her face was turning red. "Mom, please!" I begged. "Can't you see what it's doing to you? I want to help you…" She slapped me across the face.
"Get out!" she yelled. I was too stunned to say anything. She swung at me with an empty liquor bottle, which shattered on my arm. "Can't ya hear me!" She yelled. "Get out of here!" I turned around and ran. Making my way through the broken glass, I headed to the door.
On my way out I noticed the source of the death-smell, there was a big dead rat laying in the hallway. But I ignored it. I ignored everything. I just ran out of the house, through the streets.
Back to the safety of a home.
What did you think? Honestly, I'm not completely satisfied with this chapter. I actually find action scenes rather difficult to write. I hope you liked it anyway.
I won't be able to update this weekend. :( I'm really sorry, but I'll be staying with a friend, and I just won't have the time to do any writing. But, I'll be back on Monday. Sunday night if I can, but I doubt it.
Anyway, thanks for reading, please tell me what you thought!