"You're just a little sl-t , Melissa." Roared the drunken female, sprawled out disgustingly on the couch in clothes that had no doubt not been washed in at least a week. Missy wrinkled her nose, clutching her book tightly in her arms.
"Really, mother? How am I sl-t ? Because a boy gave me a ride home so I wouldn't have to walk? That's f-cking ridiculous." She sneered, eyeing her mother outright disgust. How pathetic she looked there, holding an empty bottle of vodka in her hand.
"I bet you f-cked him, didn't you? You know, if your father was here...." And the rest of her words were a blur. Missy didn't even listen to her anymore. She was crazy.
Light steps took her to the kitchen so she could make her some soup. She was thanking God that Makkail hadn't wanted to come inside and meet the one she called mother.
"Mom, shut up. You're just drunk and you don't know what you're talking about." She grumbled, slamming pots and banging the silverware. She was shaking.
"Oh, right! I'm just a pathetic, drunk woman! You just can't wait til I drop dead, can you Melissa!" She hissed, all her words slurred together. Missy moved to stand in the doorway, arms crossed and hip leaning against the door frame.
"That's right. That's why I rush home every night after work to make sure you didn't burn the place down by passing out with a cigarette in your hand." And with that, she stormed up the stairs, not even hungry anymore.
It wasn't even until an hour later that Missy crawled into bed, after making sure her mom [who was passed out on the couch] had a blanket and a pillow, and was comfortable. Soft sniffled were snuffled into her pillow, and that's when the sobs came...
<font color="#a62a2a" size="1">[ November 02, 2006 05:19 PM: Message edited by: a little bit of this ]</font>
