🔔Nadine is still in that rabbit hole  of depression. Hints of suicidal thoughts in this chapter. Be aware while reading.
Also, if you experience similar thoughts and feelings like Nadine, reach out for someone. You're not as alone as you think you are!🔔

I closed my eyes as a splash of water landed on my foot. I reached for the tab to decrease the flow. Jenna was having the time of her life, ‘helping me in the kitchen’.
She was washing the vegetables, along with her clothes, my clothes, the countertop and the floor.

“I think these are clean enough.” I smiled at her as I took the drainer from her.

She wiped her hands on her drenched t-shirt.

“Can I cut them?” she asked with a smile that she thought would convince me.

You’re cute, but not that cute.

“No, I’ll make the salad.”

At her fallen face, I added. “I’ll let you cut the last one.”

She is that cute after all.

I laughed as I placed some tomatoes on the cutting board.

“You should keep your fingers out of the way, and don’t use too much strength.” I placed the sharp side of the knife on the tomato. “Just move it back and forth, like this, chuk, chuk, chuk... see?”

She pushed with her toes on her chair as she gripped the countertop.

“Can I try, please?”

“Just let me finish those. I’ll let you cut this one.” I reached for a somewhat hard tomato and gave it to her. “Here, hold it for me.”

She took it in her tiny hands with a force I was sure would bruise it.

Oh, well.

I shrugged as I worked fast on the ones at hand.

“Ok, remember what I told you.” I said as I pushed the cutting board in front of her. I opened the drawer and gave her a smaller knife. “Here, show me.”

I moved behind her so my arms were at her sides. She placed the tomato on the cutting board, then held the knife with two hands. The vegetable rolled and dropped in the sink. She leaned to grab it, but pushed the board with her stomach next to it instead.

“Oh, wait,” she said as she put the knife on the edge of the sink and launched for the cutting board. She stopped midway when the knife clank on the floor, missing my toe with a whisker.

“The knife dropped.” She stated, looking at me, gauging my reaction.

What a hazard.

I kneeled to take the knife, taking a deep breath.

She is just a child. It’s normal for her age. She’ll learn.

I looked at her with a tight smile. I didn’t want to ruin the good morning we spent together. Her clumsiness irked me more than it should. I was tired and I didn’t need the extra mess I had to clean.

Nevertheless, I glued that smile on my face and reached for the item in the sink.

“It’s okay. Let’s try again.”

I held both her hands as we cut the poor vegetable. Before I could sigh in relief she said, “I want to season it.”

Over my dead body.

“Jenna, you helped me so much today. Now let me cook the lunch and you go play a little in your room, or with Baba. You can show him your drawing.”

Maybe it was the finality of my words, or my desperate eyes that made her say in a small voice.

“Okay.”

 
Her word came like a breather to my suffocated soul.

“Hop, then,” I said, not being able to fake any joy anymore.

She ran out of the kitchen, singing a song I knew it would stick in my head for days.
I turned to the mess. My energy drained all of a sudden.

Drops of water on the floor and on the chair, seeds and peels everywhere and more dishes than necessary to make a salad. I whined like a child and was tempted to stomp my foot.

I hate my life.

The thing about cleaning was that I could lose myself with each stroke, with the swoosh of water from between my fingers and with the bubbles of soap that exploded on my skin. My focus on the small details veiled everything from my eyes and opened a portal to my soul. It was said to be therapeutic, but my soul wasn't a good place to be for now.

I’m a horrible mother. Why did I push her away?

Everything was perfect. I was about to congratulate myself for doing a good job with my kid today. But, no, I had to ruin everything.

Well, to think of it. Everything wasn’t perfect. I did snap at her a few times when we were drawing.

I groaned as I plunged my hand in the soapy water, looking for the utensils.
She didn’t do anything to deserve it, except being herself.

Why can’t I do anything right.
She’ll end up hating me, I’m sure.

I squeezed the scrubber-sponge and press it against the knife’s blade. It was fascinating how sharp it was. It was my favourite knife. It could slice through flesh with ease.

Would it hurt if—?

“Nadine.”

I jumped, dropping the knife in the sink. I clutched my chest as I turned to the door, glaring at Adam.

“Are you okay? I called you three times.”

“What?” I couldn’t help the irritation in my voice.

His gaze locked on my face for a long moment and I couldn’t keep the eye contact as a wave of shame washed over me.

“I’m heading out to buy the groceries. Do you want anything else,” he said, waving the list I gave him this morning.

“No, everything is in the list.”

I turned to the sink, opening the water more than it was needed to block any unwanted sounds.

He stood there for a second, hesitation radiating from him. He was wise enough not to ask any further. His retreating footsteps and the soft thunk of the front door closing behind him made me sigh in relief.

I need to stay strong for a little longer. He’ll stop trying and go back to his old ways...just a little longer.

It didn’t take me long to tidy up everything. It wasn’t worth all the annoyance over it.

The rich aroma of the lunch called me to check on the oven. I opened the door, careful not to burn my face with the steam. I froze as my eyes darted to the kitchen door. I strained my ears. There wasn’t any sound which was a bad thing if one has a kid on the loose.

The handle slipped from between my fingers and the oven’s door slammed shut.
I straightened, throwing the towel on the table. I exited the kitchen, chanting to myself.

If anything happened, stay calm. She’s just a kid. She is meant to make mistakes.

 
But I didn’t need the pep talk. I wasn’t angry and I’d enough guilt from earlier that would prevent me from acting on impulse.

She was in the living room. A small smile on her lips as she hunched over the white sofa, colouring to her heart’s content. My stare zoomed on her smile that now looked wicked, when it was adorable and innocent this morning alone.

My mind went blank as blood pumped in my ears. Hot anger blew in my face. I couldn't see straight.

The whole sofa was ruined.

Why did she do that? What could’ve possibly gone through her head to make it seem like a good idea to draw on the white sofa?

Why?

The more I thought about it and couldn’t find an answer, the more my frustration grew. But I promised myself not to act on impulse. I took a deep breath, then called her with a calm voice.

“Jenna.”

She jerked from her place, throwing the crayons from her hands. And that did it for me.

She knew I won’t like it?

“What did you do? Why, Jenna, why?” I shouted as I took a step closer. She looked down, shrinking on herself.

A glance to the sofa fuelled my anger again. Her silence didn’t help either.

“Answer me. Look what you did. You ruined it. How am I supposed to clean it now?”

“I’m sorry, mama,” she said, peeking at me through her lashes.

Suddenly, her silence wasn’t that bad. This wasn’t even an answer.

“You’re sorry? Why did you do this to me? I’m tired... I’m tired.” I didn’t know why I was yelling anymore.

Her tears rolled over her cheeks as she repeated her apology, her gaze searching my face for something I knew she wouldn’t find. She wringed her hands, not knowing what to do to make it right. She looked at me for help like she used to do when she couldn’t do something by herself.

I knew that look more than she could imagine. Her helplessness was mine. Her fear was mine. Her guilt was once eating my insides. And her eyes. I knew what she saw. The anger that her young mind couldn’t grasp. And through her eyes I saw myself, cowered in a corner as my mother screamed, throwing anything she could reach and grab at me.

The hate I thought I’d buried and forgot came back, but this time towards myself. I’d sworn not to be her. I’d sworn not to make my child live what I lived, but I was doing just that.

I wasn’t seeing anymore. Was I screaming at my mother, at myself, or at Jenna?

I didn’t see her cowering in the corner, screaming her apologies again and again, but I saw as two arms took her from my field of vision.

Flashes of memories and self-hatred images vanished as everything skidded to a halt. A gasp stuck in my throat as my eyes widened in dread.

What have I done?

I turned towards the hiccups. Adam was hugging her, burying her face in the crook of his neck. Shielding her...from me?

His wide black eyes absorbed me and I couldn’t look away until a hiccup of my own broke the trance.

When did he come back?

The click of the front door answered my question. I turned to see bags thrown on the floor.

I lifted my hand to my itching cheek to find tears rolling down.

I didn’t know I was crying.

When I turned to them, my gaze locked with a broken look that shouldn’t be in my child’s eyes. And I shouldn’t be the reason for it. Her little hands rested around her father’s neck who was facing away from me.

What I saw in her eyes was something unfamiliar to me. There was no anger, or hate, but pure hurt.

I knew then that there was no place for me. I only brought pain to the ones I loved.
I stumbled back, putting more distance between us. I turned and ran towards my room, rubbing my tears dry.

I don’t have the right to cry. I won’t play the victim. I’m the culprit.

I slammed the door behind me, putting a barrier between me and the monster that I was.

What’s easier than to feign ignorance? To close my eyes and forget that the world exists, or that my actions have consequences that surpass my person.

So, I did just that. I sat on the bed, closing my eyes. I took a deep breath for my eyes to open right back when a pungent smell filled my nostrils.

I've burned the lunch.