As I stared at the lamp on the bedside table, the bed creaked as someone crawled under the sheets next to me.
"Hey lollipop," I said softly as I turned around, a small smile tugging at my lips.
"Don't call me that" she said, ignoring my greeting as she ran her fingertips over the bruise on my cheek. Slowly scooting closer, she examined the bruise "You're healing."
"I'll be okay," I said again as she tore her gaze off of the mark and looked into my eyes with a smile.
Lolita's reply got cut off as my mother's drunken laugh echoed through the house, causing me to glance towards the door.
"You don't have to tend to her, you know," she said distastefully as she clicked her tongue "you owe her nothing. Why do you let her treat you like this?"
I looked back at Lolita just in time to see any hint of anger fade from her eyes, sadness replacing it.
"She's my mother," I whispered as I slipped out from underneath the covers. I put my feet into my slippers and glanced back down at Lolita, who looked at me disapprovingly.
"Don't give me that," she said shaking her head as she got off the bed and walked to me "she's no mother of yours," then with a lighter tone, she sighed "you don't have to go."
"Come with me," I said as I tugged on her hand lightly but she shook her head and jumped back onto my bed, laughing humorlessly.
"Not if my life depended on it" she muttered as she grabbed a magazine off the floor and started flipping through it. My smile faltered a bit and I stared at the floor with a sigh.
Realizing what she had said, she turned back and looked at me in horror.
"I'm sorry Shay, I wasn't thinking and," she started babbling but I shook my head and sent her a fake smile.
"It is fine," I muttered and left the room as quickly as I could.
Half of the time when she let her mouth off, she didn't mean it but there were times when she did it on purpose so I had made it a habit to leave when she brought that kind of stuff up.
As I walked down the stairs, I realized that I hadn't heard my mother's voice after that laugh.
Confused, I walked around the house looking for her. Maybe she had turned around and left or maybe I had just imagined her laugh; then there's the possibility that she might have already passed out and was snoring in her …
My thoughts trailed off as I sauntered into the living room to find my mother on the couch desperately sucking off some dude's face.
"Oh yuck," I said in disgust as I put my hands on my hips. It wasn't because she was half-naked on top of a man who looked like he would suffocate her if he chose to be on top, but the fact that she had chosen to swap spit on my favorite couch.
Now where would I sit when I waited for my order to show up? This image would forever be with me, thanks mother. They both stopped and my mom looked up in annoyance at the distraction.
"At least do it on your bed, not on my couch," I said, mentally calculating the amount of sanitizer I would have to pour on the couch. My mother sat up and reached down to grab her shoes.
"What the hell do you think you're still doing up?" She asked stomping over to me "You have school tomorrow, young lady."
"For someone stinking of vomit and beer, I'm surprised you can still speak" I snarled. She was about to give me some sort of smart ass reply but decided against it. Instead, she raised her right hand and slapped me.
I sighed, mentally cursing myself and my big mouth. No doubt that the bruise would be back in all its glory.
"Go to your room this instant," she sneered, shoving past me as she pulled the hunchback of Notre Dame look-alike behind her.
This was just a typical Sunday night in the Hunter household.
When she was out of sight, I
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