iii. THE ORPHAN

THREE.

THE ORPHAN

Someone was shaking Bex roughly. Her eyes blinked open, the fog of sleep lifting slowly. For a jolting moment the world blazed brightly as she squinted against the light, until the blurry smudges of color in front of her sharpened into the faded gray and smoky blue of their flat. Someone stood over her, a dark shape against the glow of the setting sun filtering through the window. Her mother.

Bex swallowed the curse words rising up in her throat, scrambling to a sitting position and straightening her shoulders. She felt a tremor of fear shoot through her body. Her stomach lurched as she took in the cloudy glass in Patricia's hand and the way she swayed from foot to foot. She was drunk. But that wasn't what worried Bex. What worried her was the way her lips curled back in a snarl and the sharp nail coated in chipping crimson polish pointed directly at Bex's face.

"You-" Her mother grabbed at the air next to her face, staggering forward. Bex slid out from under her grasp, getting to her feet and backing towards the kitchen slowly. Her back hit the cracked linoleum.

"Come back here, Rebecca," her mother slurred. She tripped over her words, but the venom in her voice made Bex shiver.

Bex was used to the alcohol. She was used to the angry words, the smeared makeup, the empty threats. And the threats had always been empty. But now, something was different. She could feel it in the air around them, tense, like the crackling of electricity before a storm.

Patricia lurched towards her, and Bex's heart burst in her chest. She pressed herself further and further into the counter. She reached to grab it, blindly, but her palm was sweaty and it slipped. Bex stumbled a little, and didn't straighten back up. The corner was digging into her ribs in a way that should've hurt, but all Bex could feel was scared, scared, scared.

Her mother liked to test people. When Kilian was alive she would goad him, playing with his feelings until even his smile slipped off his face. She liked to see how far she could bend Bex until she snapped.

"Rebecca, sweetheart. Don't run from me. It's just your mummy," she singsonged.

Every muscle in Bex's body was pulling a different direction, as if the molecules within her body wanted nothing more to get away.

"Besides, you wouldn't get very far, would you?"

Patricia laughed to herself like someone had told her the funniest joke, like Bex wasn't practically shaking with fear a few feet away.

"Rebecca, come here."

Bex was bending.

"Rebecca, now."

Bex snapped.

It didn't feel like fear anymore. It was like someone had tipped her over and poured out all of the heart-wrenching fear, and now she was filling to the brim with anger. Bex was burning. Her fingers were trembling, but this time it wasn't because she was scared. She felt like gunpowder next to a flame, a lightning rod in a storm, a finger brushing a trigger.

The words slipped out before she could stop herself. "Bex," she murmured. "My name is Bex."

"Excuse me?"

Patricia hauled herself to her feet, amber-colored liquid sloshing out of the glass and onto the carpet. Her shirt was too low, her bra strap falling down her shoulder. She was beautiful once upon a time, Bex remembered. Now her blonde hair was too light, the yellowing artificial color twisted up in a matted ponytail. Her blue eyes were surrounded by sunken creases and heavy black makeup.

"I said-," She took a deep breath, trying to calm the flames roaring inside her chest. "I said my name is Bex."

Her mother let out a sharp, high pitched laugh. "Oh, darling, I couldn't care less. Call yourself what you like. It doesn't change what you are."

Bex gripped the edge of the counter so hard so was surprised it didn't crack.

"And what exactly am I?" she said in a trembling voice as she tried to contain the anger gripping her.

"A failure. A criminal. A mistake." Patricia swayed from side to side, and Bex wasn't even sure if she was awake. Somehow, that hurt more. So this was what her mother truly thought of her.

"The reason he's dead."

Bex felt like someone had swung a fist into her stomach. "I am none of those things."

Her mother's hand shot out, fingers gripping Bex's chin. She could feel her nails digging into her skin as she brought her face closer to Bex's. "Then you're a liar."

Patricia dragged one of her blood-red nails down the curve of her face.

Bex waited to see if the tears would come. They didn't. Apparently, her body was done. Empty. And now all she felt was fire.

"You're right," she hissed. "I am a liar. Because every day for the past eighteen years, I have cared for you. I have paid our bills, I have cooked our meals, I have picked you up in the middle of the night from pubs because the bartender couldn't wake you up. I have said 'I love you' every single day. And that makes me a liar, because I don't."

Patricia flinched, like someone had slipped her. She took a step back, her hand falling away from Bex's face. Her mouth gaped, and she blinked rapidly, a hurt look crossing her face. And Bex nearly went blind with rage, because how dare she act like she was the victim, like she was the one who was hurting.

"I am your mother," her mother said, but the threat in her voice fell flat.

"No," Bex spat. "No, you- you are not my mother. How dare you call yourself that. I am so sick of this. I'm sick of this place, sick of being scared, and I'm so, so, sick of you."

Bex could feel her heart exploding inside her chest. She was supernova, destroying everything in her path, and now she understood why her mother ruled Bex with anger. She felt powerful, destructive, immortal.

"Do you know how it feels to be completely and utterly alone? I do. When Dad died, it destroyed us. I lost my father, and because of you, I lost my mother too. All in one night. Your heart broke and your life went to shit, but so did mine! Do you remember what you said to me? You said-"

Bex swallowed hard, shaking.

"You said 'this is because of you'. You thought I wouldn't understand. But I did, and I spent my whole life believing that everything came crashing down because of me. Kids understand. You don't think they do, but I knew the exact moment everything fell apart and I became an orphan."

She realized she was crying, huge, shuddering sobs, and Patricia was staring at her in horror. She swiped at her eyes furiously.

"I might not be a good person, but I don't deserve this. No one does," she whispered.

And then, like someone had cut the strings holding her up, all the fire left her. She was hollow. The anger leaked out of her, and all she could feel was utterly exhausted. Bex's shoulders slumped wearily.

"I'm done, okay? I'm-...done. I can't do this anymore. You can deal with your own problems from now on. You can keep looking for happiness at the bottom of an empty bottle, and you might find it for a bit, but I guarantee once you wake up the world will crush you all over again and nothing will have changed. Except for the fact that next time you wake up, I won't be there."

Her mother stood as still at a statue in the middle of the smoky living room. Her mouth moved as if to say something, but no words came out. Patricia simply stood there in shock, watching her daughter leave through the door. Bex paused in the doorway, feeling the cool air wash over her face. She turned her head slowly to face her mother one last time.

"Don't try to come and find me," she said in a quiet, dangerous voice.

Then Bex slammed the door behind her and took the first step into her new life.

──────

a quick note:

hope this wasn't triggering in any way, and if so please let me know so i can include a warning or something. honestly this fic is sometimes so dramatic and then next chapter it's back to shitty puns. i'm a mess

also updates are going to slow down a little bit since i'm a high schooler and i have this crazy thing called a life. getting into college kind of takes priority over crappy fanfic, but i'll keep updating as frequent as possible!