What's home, if not the first place you run away from? What's love, if not that unexplainable, blazing feeling which comes after a period of hate?
Reputable for her catchy appearance, her over-niceness, her obsession with cartoon animations and her...
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Ed Sheeran - Shivers.
~
"WHAT HAPPENED TO YOUR HAND?" My mum asks as I walk through the door.
Oh, shit. I totally forgot about that. If I'd remembered, I'd have worn a longer-sleeved dress.
I ignore her. I don't want to answer her solely because if she discovers the truth, she'll be pissed and will probably go to my work place tomorrow - or right now - to cause a scene.
"Are your nosy sisters around?" I reply her with a question of my own.
She hums. "Lora went to work; won't be back until tomorrow. And Cynthia is taking a shower."
"Why is she taking a bath? Makes me wonder who she's setting up on this date." I snort as my mum playfully smacks my hand.
"Ow, mum..." I whine when the pain registers in my cerebellum, grabbing my hand and looking at it. Unfortunately, it's that same spot Mr. Ash grabbed earlier.
Specks of reddish-looking spots are littered on that part of my skin. Why? It didn't even hurt. Well, since my mum's current hit is already forming a partially-visible pink patch on my bicep, I guess I scar really easily.
"I'm so sorry, baby. My bad." She coos. "What happened? Tell me." She asks again, louder and firmer this time.
We are walking through her foyer during this conversation.
She's leading me to the dining area, adjacent the living room. I'm guessing my Romeo is seated there.
Abruptly, she stops walking and pulls my hand, making me halt as well. I look at her face, and see one of her immaculately trimmed eyebrows rise, urging me to talk.
My mum is a very beautiful, plump, light-skinned woman with bushy brows which she carves up regularly, bright brown eyes and a huge derriére. She likes gossip and kids, and she hates unmarried young women and alcohol. Her immense disdain for the latter is because it was very hard for her to come out of her addiction.
I sigh, grab her hand and pull her with me so we can resume walking.
"Mum, it's nothing serious..."
"It looks like someone scratched your hand or something. How is that not serious?" She interrupts me, halting in her steps again.
I groan in frustration and pull her alongside me so we can resume our short journey.
"I fell." I lie.
"You're not a good liar, Alaina." I don't say anything. I don't want to. "Alaina, look at me." She deadpans.
I don't. If I do, I won't be able to lie. "Someone did grab me roughly earlier." She looks horrified. "But it wasn't actually intentional and it didn't hurt." I rush to add, hoping she'll be pacified. "He apologized..." Okay, I officially fucked up.
