I watch as colour drains from my mothers face. Blurs of emotions flash across her eyes and a passing feeling of guilt washes over me.

"Excuse me?"

"Can you...tell me a bit about my father?" I hesitate slightly.

"No." I'm shocked by her abrupt answer.

"What? Why?"

"I don't have to answer that. And we will speak no longer about this."

"That's so unfair, I have a right to know."

"But why d'you have to know anyway? I've raised you as a single mother-"

"Please don't start with the sob story," I cut her off before any emotional manipulation. Of course I appreciate my mother for raising me as a single mum but it doesn't cancel out any curiosity, or worry I have about my father.

"What makes you think you can talk to me that way?" my mother demands.

"Listen I'm sorry mum but-"

"You want to know the reason I don't talk about your father? I'm keeping you safe. Your father abandoned his responsibilities but I will not do the same. I will not put you in danger because of this useless curiosity-"

"Mum but how can I be safe when I don't know what the danger is?"

"I know what's best for you."

"Of course mother knows best," I roll my eyes and even though this isn't the right moment, the catchy song from Rapunzel plays in my mind.

"I'm old enough to know what's best for myself mum. I feel like I don't know half of my identity."

"Do you want to identify as a gang member Lynne? Psychotic? Because that's the sick person your father was!" My mind flashes to that haunting black stained perma-grin of Spadille. And I start to wonder if...

"Mum, please." To my pleading and almost broken voice, my mum sighs.

"Darling, I'm sorry... but I just can't." She stands up and jogs up the stairs, not before I saw the wetness in her eyes. But it doesn't stop my blood boiling.

I jog up the stairs too, not to apologise or reconcile with my mum though. I barge through the door of my room and turn over the Death card that Spadille gave me, and I start ringing.

Aasim

I can't believe this. I can't flipping believe this.

Jacklynne's friends are nice and Orabelle has been extremely helpful babysitting for Leyna. But I want to reduce the time I leave her with random strangers before Leyna becomes too attached. Or before they become too attached to her. It would make it harder to leave in case we have to suddenly disappear.

That's why when I came to my house to get more stuff and see a fucking man in the windows with my mum, my hands clench into fists at my sides vigorously and my body trembles with rage. Instead of texting me or calling the police when her children are missing, my so-called mother is with a man right now! My tongue tastes salt from tears, and my knuckles swipe at the wetness rolling down my cheeks.

Anger consumes my mind and controls my movements before I can even stop them. I am suddenly taking swift strides towards the door of what I now call my previous 'home' and unlock the door. I march upstairs and open my bedroom, gathering the rest of the stuff I need before I turn around and my eyes meet the blue ones of my mother. The ones she would squeeze fake tears out of whenever she was too lazy to buy groceries, or when she wanted to go out to God knows where and asked me to babysit Leyna. The eyes she used to manipulate me into doing her job!

"Hey A", my mum almost sings it, with her eyes drooping heavily and her vowels slurring into one another. She leans against the doorframe for support but I already recognise the signs of when she's drunk. The rubbing of her hands on her hip when she feels her hands are sweaty even if they are not, her compulsion to sing everything even though I barely heard a lullaby when I was younger but her ignorance, whether sober or drunk always stayed the same. It was the only aspect I could reply on about her.

"Ma-" my voice, betrays me, cracking. Despite the things she has done, or actually not done as a responsible parent, she is still my mum. Unfortunately. Maybe it would have been better if she left with my dad. Then it would just have been Leyla and I.

And I wouldn't feel the guilt I have now for making the decision to leave my mother and never turn back.

"Hey A," a man's mocking voice suddenly interrupts, and a large frame fills the doorframe when a bulky, tall man appears. I can tell he's drunk too by the sluggish way he slings his arm around my mum's shoulders and leans heavily forward, just managing to readjust his balance preventing them to both topple over from the undistributed weight. If they both went down, I would gladly use them as doormats to get out. The mountain of a man is mildly handsome with a square jaw but scruffy black beard matching his unruly black hair that makes his pale skin stand out more. He is casually dressed in all black. A tight black t-shirt that makes his muscles noticeable as well as his pot belly. He follows this with embarrassing skinny jeans that I would laugh at if I wasn't so sure that I felt more safer with him around than with my mother alone.

"Where's Ley Ley? And where were you all this time?" I rethink my choice to abandon my mother. This conversation already is going better than I expected considering she might be actually showing some concern for her children going missing.

"I was-"

"I needed you to buy those protein bars I like," my mother interrupts me with these words and my heart shatters. It feels like glass pieces being torn from my skin then pierced repetitively. I'm too shocked, and coated in agony to answer.

"I'm a strong man sweetheart. I can easily pick you up and your groceries." the stranger says into my mother's ears. In disgust I cringe whilst my mother has the opposite reaction, giggling and pulling him by his collar further into the room. I guess she's completely forgotten that her son is here too. They both seem to have forgotten I'm here it seems because he starts to pepper kisses on her neck and simultaneously skims his hands over the outline of her work clothes on her body until settling on clutching her hips. I guess I'm invisible. I'm always invisible.

He appears to come to his senses and finally remembers I'm still here, his beady dark brown eyes scrutinising me with impatience. "You gonna stand there watching your own mother and I like a pervert boy?"

"No. I was just leaving. And never coming back." I reveal as I start speed walking towards the door. I manage to run down the stairs and grab the door handle but feel a stinging tug of my hair. Shortly after, I hear loud thundering down the stairs.

"What do you think you're doing A? And where's Ley Ley? And why were you just packing?" she shrieks at me, forcing me to turn around with one pull of my hair so that the fumes of alcohol from her mouth hits my nostrils.

"Mad I wasn't packing your groceries for you instead?" The sting of her palm lands as a slap on my right cheek. My eyes close and I take a huge breath, my exhale shaky.

"You're not going to fucking leave me like he did hijo!" she hisses. I open my eyes making direct eye contact with my mum so she can see all the sorrow, all the suffering and the shame I feel for not doing this earlier. For not doing what's best for Leyna and I.

"I already did mum, and you didn't even notice," I whisper.

"Who the hell is he? You told me that you told that old bastard to fuck off, not him choosing to leave you! I don't appreciate having another man's sloppy seconds!" the annoying oaf interludes.

My mum rolls her eyes, indirectly dismissing him. Her attention unluckily remains on me. "Where's Ley Ley?"

"Stop with the childish nickname! You may not act like one but you're a flipping adult with children!", my outburst comes before I can register the words escaping from my lips.

"Hey children? So you have more than one kid? You only mentioned having one and said he was grown already!" His voice becomes to increasingly sound like growls, raising with each sentence.

"Why'd you lie to me you little bitc-" his face becomes flushed with a deep red in furiousness and his massive hands reach out to enclose my mama's throat but I instinctively try to protect her by swinging the bag full of books for Leyna I packed at his head- leading me to earn a powerful swing of his fist on the same cheek my mother targeted. Now my cheek both stings and throbs, and is most likely swelling since he had a ring on.

There is only silence now except for my attacker shaking his hand and saying "Shit." He walks to the living room sluggishly complaining about having to lie down from the headache we supposedly brought on.

I flinch away from my mother's hand as she reaches to touch my cheek. "Oh Aasim, why would you do that?"

"You're not going to say anything to him!" I nod my head towards the direction of the living room.

She has the nerve to frown, then the audacity to pull her face into an innocent expression, pouting her lips immaturely, "But you were being mean to me."

I walk out immediately, slamming the door. Not before declaring, "He was right. You are a bitch." Not the last words I would have wanted to say to my mother.