Watchful Sky a story about an awkward girl and her dog
16. Growing Pains
16. Growing Pains
Jun 17, 2023
"I just can't help telling someone I'm close to what I believe to be the truth, unfiltered," I tell him.
Nolan smiles, not rudely, but understandingly. "I know," he says. "You do it all the time to me."
I find myself thinking about Nolan and not Cas as I tell my mom I'm leaving. Although I'm ironically leaving with Cas and not Nolan.
The car I bought off the auto sales listing online is packed with all my stuff. The mattress had to be smashed in half between the front and back seats.
"You got emancipated at 17," I point out to my mom as she tries to stop me.
"That was different," she snaps. "I was in an abusive home. You're not."
It's true. I'm not leaving because my mom has done anything wrong, but just because I want to be leaving. There's a fire growing in me that isn't satisfied with the loneliness of sharing a home with a woman who's not even there emotionally when she's there physically. Not with the constant fighting and name calling.
Cas waits in the passenger seat as I bring out the last of it. My mom tries to stand in the way of the driver side door.
"You can't leave," she screeches in a wildly desperate voice I've never heard before.
"But I am," I say. I rip at the car handle behind her and she stumbles forward with the force of the door at her back.
I watch her figure shrink from the rear view mirror as I drive away.
My roller-coaster was going up. Or down. Either way, it was going.
I know my expression is rock solid and don't think she's even noticed I'm crying, grateful for her lack of perception at least.
"There's a disconnect, in victims of abuser's heads. Victims of abuse are over ten times more likely to be abused than women who have never been victims in the first place. It's because of the disconnect in their heads."
"There's a disconnect in your head," I rebut. We've made it to the parking lot now and I feel less inclined to conceal my outrage.
She's realized now that I'm heading for my car, to leave her frenzied cautions. She stands desperately in front of my driver's side door as I frantically pull out my keys. She's less inclined to hide her desperation and people are staring, now.
"Look up Doctor Bedera. Look up Doctor Bedera. Women attack each other because of privilege. Because privileged women experience abuse less. It's the disconnect. It's the dis-"
I've turned around before she could get around me and her prattling is cut short. I manage to get in the passenger door of my car and lock it behind me. She's indicating dramatically outside my passenger window for me to roll it down. I reverse the seat as much as I can and crawl over the middle console with some difficulty because of my bloated belly.
She steps back and attempts to flag me down when I start the engine, her wailing muffled by the glass panes and the engine.
Michigan is an odd girl with a state for a name. Her parents are either uninvolved in the case of her father or so overprotective it's overbearing in the case of her mother. With the help of her friends, she begins to test the limits of where she can go in life and relationships she can make. Will she find the peace she is looking for or pain almost unimaginable? Or maybe just a dog named Sky.
Comments (0)
See all