Work Text:
7th of May, 2025.
My head is pounding as I write this. Tears that I can feel only physically are rolling down my neck and wetting my clothes. I suppose it is uncomfortable, because I can hardly feel my own body. Yet, at the same time, I am abnormally sensitive.
My ears are hot, my legs feel numb, and there’s an awful cold sweat in the back of my head that only comes with the fear of being found out.
My vision is getting blurry and there’s a bothersome buzzing in my ears that won’t let me hear.
It’s my mother again. It’s always my mother.
Today, once more, we sat down to eat, and I couldn’t look her in the eye. She noticed, but made no comment at first. Eventually, though, she took notice of my seemingly odd behavior and inquired. I couldn’t tell her, of course, that it is simply because if I look upon her face, I’ll be filled with ire; so I simply told her that nothing was wrong.
I guess she didn’t hear me, for she asked again, and I replied all the same, but to my surprise my voice came out angry. She made a face but no comment.
Fast forward to the end of dinner; we are sat, discussing her work problems. As per usual, she commented on the awful job her coworkers do at raising their children, both socially and emotionally speaking. I think to myself that she’s not far off, but make no comment.
I haven’t spoken a word during our meal when she asks my sister and I if we grew up neglected.
Telling the truth would mean getting into a heated argument which, frankly, I do not have the spirit to tolerate at the moment; so I tell her what she wants to hear and the conversation progresses normally.
That is, of course, until she makes a comment on how she doesn’t impose many things upon my sister and I. My sister retorts her comment, but she pays no mind. However, when I beg to differ, I am met with a far more aggressive answer.
Her favoritism is showing.
“Why can’t I simply accept what I’m imposed, and why must I try to make a division between our family?” She asks, but I did not glance in her direction as she addressed me. That, I suppose, is what flared the dragon’s fury.
She tries to outsmart me and tell me all that is wrong with my soul for me to be so hostile toward her and all authority; which is a lie, as I get along fairly well with my father and superiors.
She says it’s not simply that I don’t want to accept her rules, but how that apparently gives away the sin and darkness within my soul.
She uses my past against me, once again, much to my dismay.
I have changed, I believe, and for her to bring this up, as she always does to intimidate me, seems to be working.
Dread creeps up on me, and I feel my stomach tighten.
Not this again, I really have improved!
But she won’t listen, and continues to berate me until I can no longer hear her words.
My father interferes, though in vain.
I am the black sheep in her eyes once more.