The CEO's taboo girl

I groan as my mother starts screaming for me to get up and make her a drink. I open my eyes and get dressed in the first clothes I find: grey sweatpants and a black hoodie. I go into the dark hallway and open the first door on the left; the bathroom. I relieve myself, wipe myself, flush and wash my hands. I head into the living room. It's filthy. Dirt on the carpet, dried vomit that's been hard to get out, empty bottles of tequila, vodka and gin, and empty boxes of pizza. I sigh as I see my mother in the old armchair, a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of vodka in the other. "There you are, Stella. Took you long enough. Make me a drink. Tequila, and it better be good." I don't say anything. I know better. I get to the kitchen and push empty boxes out of the way. I grab a bottle of tequila from the freezer along with some lemon soda from the fridge and pour it in a glass. 3/4 of tequila, and the last quarter with lemon soda. I grab the tequila bottle and the glass and head for the living room again. "Here you go. I made sure it has most tequila in it." I look at my mother. Her hair is matted, her eyes are blood-shot and her face is sunken. She looks like a 70-year-old witch, and not a 35-year-old woman. I turn towards the kitchen to get something to eat when I get a bottle in my head from the chair. I fall crying to the ground and turn around. My hand move to the back of my head, and I see blood. "What the f**k is your problem?" I stand up on shaky legs, feeling whoozy. "You made it wrong. Get back to the kitchen and make me another one, you ungrateful brat!" My mother spat the words back at me, but I'd had it. "Make your own drink. I'm out of here." I run to my bedroom, grab a bag and toss some clothes in it, knowing she won't be able to get out of the chair anytime soon. I see the pathetic woman who is trying to get up, and clench my jaw. "You should get a shower. You smell. I'm leaving, and I'm not coming back again. Ever." I open the front door after grabbing some shoes she hasn't puked on and get out in the dusk light. I sigh and get down the stairs. I start having double vision and sounds sound further away. I curse the woman who gave birth to me and went to the emergency room. I give a fake name, and a fake story. They suture me up, five stitches nonetheless, and I leave before they start to ask questions, and I groan when my stomach starts to growl. Right.. I forgot to eat breakfast.F I check my pockets for money or anything, but come up empty. I sigh and move towards the alleys, hoping to find bottles or anything I can get some money out of when I meet a group of kids my age, standing around a barrel on fire. I move closer, and some of them are just staring at me like I don't belong, and maybe I don't, but I can't go back. One of the kids look at my bag, then my hoodie. She, I think it's a girl, only has a thin sweater on her. "Do you have an extra hoodie on you?" she looks scared and cold, so I nod. "Yeah, I grabbed a few when I..." I don't finish the sentence. I don1t have to, they understand. I open my bag and pull out a grey sweatshirt that is a bit warm and hand it to her. "Here. You look like you could use this more than me." I pull down my hood when the girl grab it, and I hear some of the guys mumble about the bandage on my head. "Yeah, it's the reason I left. I can't take my mother blaming me for not mixing her drinks correctly. The b***h threw a bottle of tequila at me because her drink wasn't right at 5 am... So I left, and I'm not going back." The surrounding kids all nod, introducing me to those around and bring me to a homeless camp where someone gives me a tent where I can have my things, and I sigh as I lay down on the thin cardboard on the floor of the tent. First night in my new life.