A Different Kind Of Forever

Chapter Nine:

Miles walked me home today, his hand resting lightly on my arm as we strolled down the street. It was one of those peaceful moments I cherished—talking about school, the upcoming show, and just sharing small laughs. The sky was turning dark, the streetlights flickering on, casting a warm glow over everything. I felt safe with him, like nothing could touch me.

As we approached my driveway, I suddenly heard music drifting out from a few houses down—the skanking beat of Katchafire. It was loud, lively, and unmistakably the sound of kids having fun, maybe a party or a bunch of friends hanging out. I looked up to see three cars parked haphazardly on the driveway of the house next door, the windows slightly foggy from the bass thumping inside.

“Hm,” he murmured, a little smirk tugging at his lips. “Your mum must’ve hit the jackpot today. Early home, music blaring, you know, classic sign she’s had a good one.” He chuckled softly, and I giggled, knowing he was right. My mum often drank after work, especially when she was stressed or upset. Sometimes she’d get too drunk, sometimes she’d just be loud and unpredictable.

We said our goodbyes, promising to text each other later, and I watched as Miles headed back toward his place. I took a deep breath, then turned toward my house. My heartbeat quickened a little, not from the walk but from that nervous feeling—anticipation mixed with dread, knowing what might be waiting inside.

I pushed open the front door quietly, but immediately, I was hit with the familiar scent of alcohol and the loud, irritating hum of music. The house was a mess—dishes stacked high, pizza boxes cluttered on every surface, empty beer bottles scattered across the floor. It looked like a cyclone had gone through, and honestly, it was the norm when my mum was drinking.

I called out softly, “Mum?” but only silence answered. I looked around, my stomach tightening. My siblings weren’t in the living room or the main areas. I knew they’d be at Grandma’s—my younger brother and sister had gone there after school, probably to escape the chaos for a while. My older sister was hanging out with her friends—they rarely came home early, especially on weekends.

I headed down the hall, calling again, “Where’s Mum?” I found my older brother in his room, sitting on his bed with his headphones on, eyes glued to his phone. He looked up briefly, then turned his head away, not saying a word. I asked again, “Did she drop the kids off at Grandma’s?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, she left earlier after dinner. Said she was going out again. Probably to the bar or something.”

My chest tightened. I knew what that meant—another night of her drinking, her yelling, her anger. I hurried into the kitchen, trying to clean up the mess before she got worse. I grabbed the dirty dishes, stacked them in the sink, and swept the beer bottles into a plastic bag. I didn’t want her to come home to a disaster, even if it was already a lost cause. I tidied up as best I could.

By 10pm, I was exhausted I jumped in the shower and did my night routine speaking my affirmations before I went to sleep. I curled up in my room, I was just about to drift off, when suddenly, I heard the door slamming open—loud and forceful. My stomach sank. I knew who it was before I even looked.

My mother staggered into the house, her hair messy, her face flushed, eyes glassy and unfocused. Her movements were unsteady, and her voice slurred as she called my name.

I tensed up and tried to pretend I wasn’t listening. “Taleigha,” she barked, stumbling toward my room. “Taleigha, wake up!”

I squeezed my eyes shut, trying to prepare myself. “Mom, I’m sleeping,” I called softly, my voice trembling just a little.

But she ignored me. Instead, she burst into my room, her face twisted with anger. Her words came out slurred but sharp. “You think you’re so special, huh? Acting like you’re better than me. Like you’re all that.”

My heart pounded. I knew what was coming.

Before I could say anything, she started hitting me and dragged me out of bed into the lounge You’re nothing but a mistake,” she spat, her eyes narrowing. “I wish I never had you. You’ve ruined my life. All because of you, I’m stuck in this hell.” Her voice cracked with bitterness, her words laced with years of pain and rage she couldn’t control.

Then her hand shot out. She pulled a cigarette from her pocket and started smoking blowing her smoke in my face "Daddy's not here to save you any more" she snarled with a cruel sneer, she leant forward and look me dead in my eyes and told me I ruined her life and butted out the cigarette on my hand I let out a wimp sound holding back tears and flinched because I flinched it made her even more angrier and she began to slap my face picked me up off the couch but strangling me "why don't you do us all a favour and die your not worthy of being my daughter get the f**k out of my house."

As she let go of my thought she had left scratch marks on my face I quickly walked to my room I checked the time it was 11:20pm asking my self will miles be awake I quickly texted him hey are you awake?

I quickly got everything ready clothes brush tooth brush tooth paste charger I grabbed some cream to chuck on my face my mother's hurrying me up telling me to get out I chucked the bag out side my window and walked out the door like I had nothing.

*ding ding*