HANNAH

"Finally! I found you!" she shouts while scowling and grabbing my arm.

"What's wrong, mom? Let go of me!" I scream, letting go of her grip.

She stares at me open-mouthed, clearly surprised by my reaction.

"What's wrong with you? Is that how you treat your own mother?" she asks me, shouting furiously, attracting the attention of people passing by.

"What do you want?" I ask, a little calmer.

"I want to know where the fuck my daughter is. You disappeared two weeks ago, Hannah. I have the right to at least know where you are, don’t you think?" she says curtly.

"And where was I supposed to be? This town is tiny and you said it yourself—I don't have any friends I can count on to go to their houses," I say, making a great effort to keep calm.

"And now we're back to that! It happened weeks ago! You can't live in the past Hannah, get over it. And besides, it's not like I lied either, right?" she asks, calm. Not a trace of sadness, guilt or pain in her voice.

That pain in my chest again. That deep, horrible ache in my chest. You'd think that you'd get used to this pain, but... nop. The truth is that it hurts to see how your own mom says those things without feeling guilty in the least. And the worst part is that this is the second time she's said something as horrible as this. She knows those things affect me. She knows everything I went through at my old school and all the tears I shed for being alone. She knows all that and yet she still seems to want to hurt me.

I notice how that pain takes possession of my whole body and I feel my eyes filling up with tears. I make an effort to fight back them, biting my lip.

"Enough, mom," I say gruffly and start walking away from her. I don't want to talk to this woman anymore. I don't want to end up crying like I did that day at Casy's.

"You're not going anywhere! Come here!" She yells at me in the distance and I can sense her quicken her pace to get closer to me.

Again she grabs my arm. I slip out of her grip and keep walking.

"Hannah! Can't you see I care about you? Come here, please!" She yells at me again, a few feet away.

After saying such a thing to me she says she cares about me? This is a joke, isn't it? I'm sure it is. My mom telling me she cares about me? Ha! Yeah, right! That wouldn't happen in a million years. She's probably lying to trick me into going back to the house with her so she can make my life a complete hell trying to control every single thing I do.

"You're kidding me, right? Are you seriously telling me you care about me?" I ask, laughing because it really seems like a joke.

"I don't know why you're laughing and asking me that. I'm your mom—obviously I care about you" she tells me, softening her look and I can swear I almost believe her, but that's not going to work with me.

"After all the shit you said to me, you expect me to believe you? I don't fucking believe you! You say hurtful things to me; you lie to me; you hide things from me. How on earth I'm supposed to believe you care about me after that? A real mother would never do something like that to her child. You just want to destroy me! You don't care about me!" I scream my head off and all the effort I've made to keep calm goes to hell and thousands of tears start to fall non-stop from my eyes.

"Hannah..." gently says my mom, terrified by my reaction. She approaches me, trying to calm me down so that I don't attract the attention of several people crossing the street at that moment. However, those people are not part of my extensive list of concerns.

"Get away from me, go fuck daddy!" I scream without even thinking, crying my eyes out.

The skin on my mom's face loses its natural color and turns white as a sheet of paper, just as Casy reacted several times. Her eyes widen and her muscles tense. She clearly wasn't expecting me to mention that tiny little detail.

"What did you just say?" she asks me, and her tone frightens me. Her expression exudes fury and anger.

"You heard me," I'm not afraid of her.

She runs her hands over her face, frustrated.

"Hannah... your dad is in Boston," she says, looking down at the floor. Like her face, her lips also lose their characteristic pink color.

Great. Keep lying.

"Oh yeah? Then why did I hear you moaning his name a few days ago?" I say, surprised by my bravery. Normally, I would be afraid of my mother's presence, but not today. And I'm damn proud of myself.

Her eyes widen again and it is clear that she's terrified and stunned by all the information I have.

She starts pacing back and forth nervously, running her hand through her hair and looking in every other direction but where I am standing.

"So, are you going to answer me?" I insist.

"Hannah... it's complicated, you wouldn't understand," she replies, still not looking at me.

"Oh, don't give me that shit! Tell me what's going on, I deserve to know. I need to know what's going on between you and dad and I need to understand why the fuck you keep everything from me like I'm a five-year-old girl. I'm not five anymore, I'm sixteen and I can understand everything perfectly. So speak up," I say, angry at my mother's response. My voice is firm and full of anger.

My mom sighs. She runs her hands over her face and finally gives in:

"Okay, you're right, but let's go home. We need to talk in a quieter place; not in the middle of the street."

I nod, agreeing with her, and we both head home. It looks like I won't be going to school today after all.