Ache and Hunger

Chapter 1: The Snap ( Part 1)

Alexis’ Pov:

It was the straw that broke the camel’s back. The straw is my Mother, and the camel is me. The back was my patience. I was sitting at the dining table that was rarely ever used. That’s because the usual is eating in different rooms in the house. I recently got into the habit of using the dining table as my little desk.

I was getting into the habit of forcing myself to work on my story every day. My fingers were hovering over the keyboard, whatever stream of words that were just spilling from my fingertips had temporarily stopped. That’s when I heard the heavy footsteps of my Mother coming down the steps. It made me feel nervous, just like always. 

“Alexis!” Her voice was loud, harsh, and gravelly. It caused my stomach to drop and my inner child to whimper in fear. 

“Yes,” I was automatic at this point, ingrained in me to only respond with a yes that sounded, alert with a bit of respect in my tone, anything else would get me harsh words.  

I peeked at my Mother for a few seconds, taking in her natural scowl on her beautiful dark-skinned face that reminded me of the petals of Calla Lilies. That scowl only made my stomach feel more uneasy as she walked over to me. She sat on the chair across from me. I watched as she took a few breaths. 

She was out of shape and never stuck to a diet or workout for too long. I never judged her for dropping diets and exercises. They are tiring. However, when she complains about being in pain all the time and saying she’ll start a diet tomorrow while forcing me to go to the store to get her junk food.

Those are the moments I get annoyed and wish she would stick to something. I scowled as I was thinking over all this. I moved my eyes back to my laptop so that my mother wouldn’t believe I was making a face at her.

She extended her hand on the table as she demanded, “Give me your phone.”

 My scowl deepened as I thought about telling her, No. I mean I am an adult, I can say no to her. In reality, I won’t say no, only because I can see this ending badly. The few times I said no to her, I got hurt either emotionally or minorly in a physical sense.

 I moved my hand to the right where my phone lays. I picked it up slowly and unlocked it. I wondered what my mother wanted my phone for? She had her phone as well as us having an actual lane line. 

 I looked up at her curiosity as I asked, “Why do you need my phone?”

“Give me the phone, Alexis,” She demanded in a louder volume this time as she leaned forward in her chair this time, giving me her usual scowl.  

I sighed as my stomach tightened in fear of whatever harsh words would come out of her mouth. I felt like I was in trouble already. I didn’t want this to get any worse. So, I slid my unlocked phone towards my Mother.

I felt the nervousness come back, tenfold. I started to bounce my leg in response, to get rid of this feeling. I tried to get back to writing, escaping into the world that I wanted to create. I needed to do this. So that I didn’t think too hard about why my mother needed my phone, it barely worked, and then she spoke again. 

“Get out of my house,” The words came out of her mouth so casually that I couldn't help the laugh that bubbled up and went out of me. 

That was the wrong move on my part to make. Because the next thing I knew, my Mother snapped my phone in half right in front of me. I stared in shocked horror at what just happened. 

The next sound that left me was a shirl yell of disbelief, “Mom!”

“Don’t call me that ever again,” She stood up and tossed my broken phone at me, aiming to hit me. I flinched and quickly moved my head to the right allowing the fractured pieces to fall to the ground. 

She hissed the words out as she walked away from me, “Laugh at that.”

I tried to process what happened. It was difficult. In the past, I have seen my Mother show off her strength before. So it wasn’t as impossible for her to actually do it. Her power is why I gave her the nickname hulk. Also, she has lashed out on me to clear up her anger many times before. 

I just never in my life thought that she’d break my phone as if it were a pencil. So as she scaled the steps, I waited until she was halfway up the steps to speak again. I felt too afraid that if I said anything sooner, she might come after my laptop next. 

“Why did you break my phone?” I asked, my voice cracking at places and shrill yet not as shrill as when I yelled.

 I looked up at her, waiting for some kind of answer to this sudden c*****e. The only thing I am given is her voice loud and cold, “I want you out of my house now.”

I closed my laptop and followed after my Mother cautiously. I searched my brain, trying to find out what I ever did wrong to piss her off this time. I found her in my room, packing up my things in the bags I used when I went off to college, which didn’t end well. I walked closer to her, hoping to bring her to her senses. 

“Mom, please,” I tried to get her attention, to calm her down, yet whatever I planned to say turned to blood in my mouth. 

My Mom smacked me hard in the face. The impact was so hard that I lost my balance and my lip split open. I landed on the floor of my room, my outstretched hands stopping further violence from falling upon my face. The stinging hot pain is radiating from my mouth and cheek. Immediately my eyes watered and my nose tingles finally tears falling down my face. 

“I told you not to call me that anymore. I’m not your Mom”, She spoke loudly with oddly cold indifference in her tone, that chilled me.

I sat up slowly, sitting on the floor. I looked up at my Mom, tears, and blood, leaving trails down my face. My chest felt tight, and the familiar feeling of being a burden nearly suffocated me. If it wasn’t for the usual fear of being thrown away didn’t almost close my throat. Could I lose the love of my Mother entirely right now? 

“What did I do? I’m sorry!” If I weren’t so emotional, I would have cringed at how desperate and whiney my voice sounded. 

“Move,” She said simply as she picked up two full suitcases with all my things in it. 

She walked out of the room with the suitcases, stepping on my hand as she went, she threw over her shoulder, “I told you to move, that was your fault for not listening as usual.”

It was her standard apology without actually saying she apologizes. I cradled my sore hand then pushed myself up off the floor. I followed after her, my heart pounding in my chest as I struggled to find the right words to say that would just make her stop. All I could come up with is crying out her prenatal title, which I didn’t speak aloud. 

The pain that was slowly and steadily getting less hot, and the copper taste of my blood in my mouth, reminded me of what happened the last time I called her Mom. I felt anger bubble up in me, sudden and hot. I have done everything she has ever told me to do, for my entire life, given her every dime I had, changed the way I act all to please her.  

It all amounted to nothing. I amounted to nothing. Now my Mother is done with me just like anyone else who ever uttered the words I love you in reference to me. I grabbed my bags from her grip and walked out the door out on my own. If I am going to be kicked out, I’ll do it on my terms at least in the end. 

“Fine!” I yelled at her, letting out all my emotions in that one word. 

My hands shook with my anger as I fumbled with the lock, and my eyes stung with unshed tears. I wiped my eyes clean and slammed the door close in my Mother's face. I tried to calm myself down as I walked down the steps with my two bags. I walked up the street, hoping that the bus still ran this late in the night. I reached into my pants pocket for my phone to check the bus schedule. 

All I found was the loose change that I managed to forget that I had. It was enough for a bus ride, and maybe a bag of chips. I clenched my jaw tightly as I remembered that my Mother snapped my phone in half. I got on the bus, with my bags, holding on to the hope that my friend was home and able to let me stay for a few nights. 

I felt grateful that there wasn’t a lot of people on the bus, being around a lot of people made me anxious. I felt like everyone would be watching me and judging everything I do. I pulled my bag strap higher on my shoulder and tightened my hold on my other bag as I made my way to the back of the bus. I sat on the corner, holding my bags close to taking up as little space as I could. I felt my eyelids lower from the exhaustion of being so angry, the more I calmed down, the more tired I became.  

I was worried that I might miss my stop, so I sucked in the meat of my cheek that wasn’t still hot from the parental abuse and gently bit down on it. Even so, when I opened my eyes confused as to when I closed them, I realized that I missed my stop. 

I quickly pulled the string that called for the bus to stop, and I gathered my things. Two bags full of everything that I owned basically, I walked out the back door of the bus and looked around at the buildings. Environmental cues helped me get my bearings; the street names and numbers did nothing to help me feel less lost.

I always relied on the buildings. I knew I had quite the walk ahead of me. I pulled my bag higher up on my shoulder, tightened my hold on my other bag as I started to walk. I felt my stomach churning for food. I wondered if it was worth it to turn around and head back to that corner store that I passed a block ago. As I started to turn, I looked at the alleyway that I was moving pass, head-on. 

If I just kept walking, I would've missed it, but I turned. I saw at the end of the ally, a man pressed against the brick wall, by someone else. Whoever had him pinned looked as if they were doing something to his neck. I assumed it was a couple that couldn’t wait to get home to express their desires.

 I was just about to look away and keep walking. When the man locked eyes with me, I felt my face heat up, which was a rare thing to happen to me. I was going to look away. When he reached out with a shaky hand, his voice came out slightly gurgled as he said, “Help me.”

Dark red spilled slowly out of his mouth as his arm dropped down, limply beside him. My eyes widened, and I sucked in a breath of surprise as I faintly wondered if I just witnessed a murder. Whoever pinned the now dead or dying man to the wall turned around, they wore a casual outfit of a hoodie, jeans, and sneakers. Who kills a person dressed so casually? 

They turned all of a sudden and spotted me immediately. They stood in place watching me like a child who at the night sky full of stars for the first time. Within seconds they stood in front of me, and before they could say a word, I tilted my head, exposing my neck and spoke without really thinking, “Kill me too.”

With the light of the street lamps on them, I could make out feminine features on their face, red hair pulled up in a ponytail, along with the soft curve of her hoodie, that hid her breasts. She looked at me confusion dancing in her sunset-colored eyes as she asked within a smoky voice, “Excuse me, what?”