An Echo in the Wind

Chapter 15

"What were you thinking? Leaving a six year old home alone? So you could...what? Go slum around at a bar? Getting drunk? Leaving a child alone! That's illegal!" I yell at her. 

Austin shrinks back in his chair at my raised voice, but I can't stop myself. I'm furious. Furious at her. I've tried so hard to be understanding. To be lenient with her. But I have to draw a line somewhere. This is unacceptable. He could've gotten hurt home alone.

My mother just blinks at me, "I thought you were home."

I scoff, "Wow Mom. Really, just...wow. So, after receiving a text from me saying I would be out last night...you took that to mean I would be home. Great fucking job at parenting." I say sarcastically.

She scowls at me, "Don't reprimand me. I'm your mother. And watch your language."

"No," I stop her, "You don't get to do that. You don't get to just play the parent whenever you feel like it. Especially not when you're shit faced at 1 in the afternoon."

She looks like she couldn't care more or less what I was saying. She is unbelievable. "You don't even care," I say, "Austin needs supervision, he's a child. He's just six years old. He needs someone home with him. He could've gotten hurt by himself."

Her eyes are hazed. I'm surprised she even made it home without killing herself on the road. Her eyes scan the room until they land on Austin and she furrows her brows angrily, "You. You stupid little brat. You ruined my life!"

Where does this even come from? It's like me scolding her about Austin made her realize he was in the room. She storms up to him and he looks up at her with his big, sad eyes. She's about to slap him, but I grab her arms, pulling her away. "Get the fuck away from him," I say.

Even though I'm restraining her, she still spits vile words at him, "You killed him. If you had never been born, we never would've had money problems. Then your dad and I never would've started fighting. Your brother wouldn't have acted out, and your dad wouldn't have killed himself. It all leads back to you!"

Austin cries silently, the grilled cheese sandwich long forgotten. His body trembles with sobs, tears falling down his face like running rivers, but on sound leaves his body. 

"Go upstairs," I tell him, "Lock your door, I'll be up soon."

He nods and runs upstairs hurriedly. I turn on my mother, watching her murderous eyes follow Austin up the stairs. "You're a pathetic excuse for a mother."

She looks at me, "Look who's talking. You think you can just replace me? You aren't his mom, I am! He should love me more, not you! I am his mother!"

I'm shocked silent, but only momentarily. So that's what this is about? Him loving me more? She's jealous of me?

I want to forget her words, telling myself she's just drunk. But they say that drunk words are sober thoughts, so I can't entirely dismiss them, as much as I want to.

She pushes me hard, hate in her watery eyes. I stumble backwards, my back hitting the island chair in the kitchen. 

It doesn't hurt much, probably because I'm being fueled by anger right now. I'll probably be sore later though. 

"Why did you start drinking again?" I cry out. Then, my voice softens, my anger turning into sadness mixed with disappointment, "I thought you were getting better."

She shakes her head, "No one wants to hire me. I had four job interviews last week. I got denied by them all, because of my drinking and employment record."

It makes sense. Due to her drinking, she kept getting fired from jobs because she'd miss shifts or be drunk on the job. She went through 7 jobs in the span of two years before no one would hire her anymore.

We were living off Dad's insurance money at that point. Then a few weeks ago, more money came through from Dad's old company, so we were able to move here and get this nice house. 

I thought that a new place meant Mom would be able to find work again, but if she can't find something soon, we'll be screwed. 

"I'm sorry Mom. You could've talked to me about it," I say, my lip wobbling. 

She puts her head down, "No. You'd just hate me...just like Austin does. My own son hates me."

She looks angry again at the thought and grunts. My heart is pounding in my chest. It's scary to see her like this, because I never know what'll happen. 

She meets my eyes and pushes me onto the floor. I let out a soft whimper as my butt connects with the floor. I don't object when she straddles me, gripping my arms hard with fury. I put my head back against the floor, looking into her furious eyes. 

Fear grips my chest like it hasn't in so long. I don't resist, even though her bony fingers dig into my arms, drawing blood where her nails collide with my skin. 

She needs to get her anger out, and anything I say will just feed into it. So I take it. Because I know it's either me or Austin. And I'd choose me any day in this situation. 

"You deserve this," she growls. She stands up and kicks me hard in my stomach, causing me to curl up on my side. Pain races through my side. Tears prick my eyes. 

"Get up," She spits. 

I shake my head violently, fear stricken and frozen on the floor, looking at her with blurred vision. She wants to get a rise out of me. She wants me to fight back. 

It's better that I do nothing. Then she'll get bored and go pass out in her room. 

"I said get up!" She screams. 

When I do nothing, uneven breaths racking my body, she kicks me again. And again. And again. All the blows are to my torso where it can be easily covered up. 

I'm thankful for that at least as I whimper through the pain, trying not to let myself cry out. I don't want Austin to hear. 

I don't need anyone asking questions or going to the police. No one can know. Austin's all I have. I'm not 18 yet. If someone finds out and legal actions are taken against my mom, we'll both be stuck in foster care, and I'll likely never see him again. 

I won't let that happen. So I take it. For so many god damn reasons...I take it. I take it all. 

I know I shouldn't, but I can't help myself, "You wonder why Austin hates you. This isn't the way you get him to love you. All you do is scare him."

My voice is shaky and trembling, along with my sore body. It hurts to breathe. Several spots on my arms and stomach feel wet, where she drew blood from kicking or scratching too hard. 

She scowls at me, "You're such a little bitch. You're a selfish bitch. Trying to keep my son away from me. Like I haven't lost enough."

I shake my head, tired, "I hate-"

"You hate me?" She cuts me off, "Join the club."

"No. I don't hate you. I love you. I just hate how you act sometimes. I think I will always love you, no matter what you do. I shouldn't. Not after everything you've done. But I do. I love you."

She says nothing as she walks away towards her room. I take a shaky breath and push myself up carefully and stumble to the stairs. I look over at her retreating figure and whisper only loud enough for myself to hear, "I hate that I love you."

***

Hey guys! I'm so so sorry for the late update. We just started a huge writing project in my creative writing course and it's taken up all of my writing energy. Also, on that note, I have 3 more weeks left of that project so I'll probably only be updating 1 chapter at a time until that's over :(

QOTD: What's the best project you've ever done?

>> I did this world religions project in 8th grade and I was so proud of it. I was so happy because my teacher kept it as an example which made my day lol

Next Update: 4/23/21 (hopefully)