"Actions have consequences"

(Mentioning of a car crash
and death)

REAL LIFE

As Zia cautiously descended the stairs, her heart racing slightly, she decided to approach her mom about inviting Walker over for another sleepover. However, her mom had been growing increasingly frustrated with Zia's frequent spending time with him, and thus, Zia was met with immediate annoyance. 

"Mom, can Walker come over for another sleepover tonight?" she asked timidly, fidgeting with the strings of her hoodie. 

Her mom sighed, the irritation evident on her face. "Again with Walker? You're always hanging out with him. It's getting ridiculous."

Zia felt a pang of disappointment at her mom's response, but she tried to maintain her composure. "Why can't he come over? We never hang out that much."

Her mom, now visibly annoyed, shot back, "Yes, you do. You've been spending time with him constantly, and I'm tired of it. You need to find other things to do and spend time with other people."

Zia's defensiveness rose, and she couldn't hold back her retort. "What's wrong with spending time with Walker? He's my friend!"

Her mom's annoyance quickly turned into anger as she raised her voice. "You have other friends, too, but you're always with him. It's like he's the only person you care about. This obsession isn't healthy."

Zia felt her frustration growing, but she tried to explain her perspective. "It's not an obsession. We just enjoy spending time together. We watch movies, play games, and talk about stuff. It's fun."

Her mom rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "Fun, yeah. That's all you're interested in. But what about your studies? Your other friends? What about me, your mother?"

Zia's guilt started to mix with her anger. She knew her mom had valid concerns, but she didn't want to be controlled. "I still study and hang out with other people. It's just that Walker understands me, and we have a good time together. I don't know why you're making a big deal out of this."

Her mom's annoyance reached its peak, and her voice rose. "Because I'm your mother, and I care about your well-being. And I don't like that your life seems to revolve around Walker. It's not healthy, and it's not fair to me or your other friends, who you barely spend any time with anymore."

Zia felt a mixture of guilt and defiance. She knew her mom had a point, but she didn't want to give in to her demands. "I still spend time with my other friends. And I don't want to stop spending time with Walker. I'm allowed to have a best friend."

Her mom scowled. "It's not just about having a best friend. It's about balance. You need to learn how to divide your time. And you're not doing that. You're spending way too much time with him."

Zia's defensiveness took over, and her voice became heated. "Why are you being so strict? It's just a sleepover. I don't understand why you're making such a big deal out of this."

Her mom, now thoroughly frustrated, responded with a firm tone. "It's not just about this sleepover. It's about your behavior overall. You're neglecting your duties and your friends because you're always with Walker. This isn't a healthy way to live."

Zia finally reached a breaking point and exploded. "I can't believe you're acting like this! Every time I want to hangout with Walker, you have something to say about it," she shouted. "It's like you're obsessed with controlling my time. I'm sick of it!"

Her mom, caught off guard by Zia's outburst, snapped back. "I'm not obsessed with controlling your time. I just want you to be a well-rounded person, with balance in your life. And spending all your time with Walker isn't healthy or fair to everyone else in your life. I'm your mother, and I'm looking out for you."

Zia was past the point of backing down. "I don't need you to look out for me. I can make my own choices."

Her mom's face hardened. "Well, if you're so adamant on making your own choices, then you're grounded. You're not going anywhere anytime soon, and certainly not to any sleepovers or meetups with Walker."

Zia's anger and defiance flared, "What the fuck? You can't ground me! You're being so unfair."

Her mom stood firm. "Oh I can definitely ground you, and I am. You're not leaving this house until I say so. And no more sleepovers or meetups with this Walker. You need a reality check and to learn how to prioritize what's important in life."

Zia's eyes filled with tears as her anger and despair mixed. "You're so unfair. You're so unreasonable. I hate you!" she screamed and ran upstairs to her room, slamming the door behind her.

Zia's mom stood in the living room, her own emotions swirling. She knew the argument had gone too far, but she couldn't help but feel frustrated and worried about Zia's behavior. As she heard the sound of Zia's door slamming shut upstairs, her heart sank, and she ran a hand through her hair, sighing deeply.

⁂

Her mom, feeling overwhelmed and frustrated, decided that she needed to get out and clear her mind. She headed towards the garage, her thoughts still reeling from the argument with Zia. Without a specific destination in mind, she got into her car and started driving, the streets of the city whizzing by as her emotions churned within her.

The night air blew gently through her open car window as she drove, her mind replaying the fight with Zia. Her heart ached at the words her daughter had hurled in anger, and she couldn't shake the feeling that she had failed as a parent. She clutched the steering wheel tightly, trying to make sense of her own thoughts and emotions.

As she navigated the city streets, her driving became less intentional, her mind preoccupied with the recent events. She found herself driving aimlessly, just trying to clear her head and come to terms with the argument. She took turns at random, not really caring where she ended up, as long as it took her away from the suffocating tension at home.

The city lights blurred into streaks of color, and the sound of the car's engine and the radio became a background drone. Her mom's thoughts continued to spin, alternating between frustration with Zia's behavior, worry about their relationship, and guilt for her own role in the argument. She drove as if in a daze, allowing the movement of the car to soothe her tumultuous emotions.

She had no destination in mind, no particular place she was going. All she knew was that she needed to drive, to move, to keep the thoughts and emotions from overwhelming her. She aimlessly wove through the city, the glow of streetlights and occasional honks of other cars barely registering in her mind. Her hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white with the force of her grip.

As she continued to drive, time seemed to lose its meaning. The minutes blended together into an indistinguishable blur. Her mind was consumed by the argument, replaying the heated words, the accusations, and the sense of helplessness that had washed over her in those moments. The city skyline shifted as she unknowingly made her way towards a more remote area, the buildings growing fewer and the streets less crowded.

The mother of the brunette girl continued driving, lost in her thoughts, her journey led her off the main road and into a desolate area on the outskirts of the city. The roads grew narrower, the buildings fewer and farther between. The area was dimly lit, and the silence of the night was broken only by the occasional hooting of an owl.

Unaware of her surroundings and still wrapped up in her own world, her mom's car continued down the deserted street. There was no other traffic, and the quiet neighborhood provided a stark contrast to the busy city she had left behind. Caught in a whirlwind of emotions, she failed to notice the curve in the road, her mind still consumed by the argument with her first born.

The curve in the road came upon her suddenly, the headlights of her car illuminating the sharp turn too late. In the midst of her distraction, she found herself unable to react quickly enough to navigate the turn. Her mom's hands tried to steer the car, but she overcorrected, and the car veered off the road.

⁂

As Zia sat on her bed, her eyes red from crying and her mind still racing, she heard a soft knock on her door. Her heart skipped a beat, expecting it to be her mom coming to continue the argument. But instead, her dad's voice called out gently, "Zia, sweetie, can I come in?"

Zia's breath caught in her throat, and for a moment, she didn't know what to say. The sound of her dad's voice was a welcome comfort, but she was still angry and hurt from the fight with her mom. Nevertheless, she called out in a hoarse voice, "Yeah, come in."

Her dad opened the door slowly and stepped into her room, his expression one of concern and understanding. He approached Zia's bed and sat down next to her, his presence a soothing balm to her emotional turmoil.

"How are you holding up, honey?" he asked gently, his eyes full of empathy. Zia's lip quivered, and she tried to keep her composure, but tears welled up in her eyes once again.

"I'm so mad at her," she said, her voice faltering. "Why does she have to be so strict and controlling? Why can't she just understand that I need some freedom and time with my friends?"

Her dad wrapped his arm around her and gave her a reassuring squeeze. "I know you're upset, sweetie. I understand how you feel. But your mom, she's just trying to look out for you, even if it doesn't seem like it right now."

Zia leaned into her dad's embrace, finding comfort in his words but still unable to shake off her anger. "It's not just that. She's always on my case about spending time with Walker. She acts like I'm doing something wrong by having him as a friend."

Her dad nodded, trying to explain her mom's perspective. "It's not that she's against you being friends with Walker. It's just that she doesn't want you to lose sight of other important things in your life. She wants you to have a balance between your friendships, your studies, acting, and everything else."

Zia sniffed and looked up at her dad, a mix of frustration and sadness in her eyes. "But why can't she trust me to handle it myself? Why does she have to be so strict"

Her dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes, as parents, we worry about your decisions and the people you choose to spend time with. We might come across as strict or controlling, but it's because we care about your well-being and your future."Her dad sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Sometimes, as parents, we worry about your decisions and the people you choose to spend time with. We might come across as strict or controlling, but it's because we care about your well-being and your future."

Despite her dad's gentle explanation, Zia's anger and frustration hadn't subsided. She wanted to understand her mom's perspective, but at that moment, she was too consumed with her own feelings of unfairness. With a heavy sigh, she realized it was late and that she wouldn't find a resolution then.
"I'm tired," she finally said, her voice flat. "I think I'm just gonna go to bed."

Her dad, seeing the fatigue in her face, nodded. "I think that's a good idea, sweetheart. You've had a long day. Get some rest, and tomorrow, hopefully, things will feel a bit better." (Hell nah lil bro)

Zia nodded half-heartedly and climbed under the covers of her bed, knowing full well that sleep wouldn't come easily with everything that had happened. "Goodnight, Dad," she mumbled, her voice slightly muffled by the pillow.

Her dad gave her a warm smile and stood up from the bed, patting her head gently. "Goodnight, Zia. Sleep well. I'm here if you need anything." He turned off the light and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving Zia alone with her mind that was practically a sea of monsters.

⁂

As Zia lay in her bed, tossing and turning, sleep eluded her. Frustrated and still wound up from the argument with her mom, she reached for her phone, intending to read or watch something to distract herself. But as she swiped through her home screen, the latest notification caught her eye. 

"Breaking News: Fatal Accident on the City Outskirts" 
Her heart skipped a beat, and her finger hovered over the notification with trepidation.

Zia's pulse quickened as she read the headline on her phone. The words "fatal accident" seemed to echo in her mind, setting off an alarm bell in the depths of her heart.She clicked on the notification, launching a news website with live coverage of the incident.

The news website pulled up a video clip of the site where the accident had occurred. The feed showed emergency vehicles surrounding a badly damaged car, and the area was bathed in a sea of flashing red and blue lights. Zia's eyes widened as she watched the scene unfold on the video, her heart dropping into her stomach as she tried to make out any details of the victims in the wreckage.

The news anchor's voice cut through the static of the video, but Zia could barely register the words. All she could see was the chaos and destruction on the screen, her mind racing with fear and dread. Tears started to stream down her face once again as she gripped her phone, a wave of anxiety crashing over her.

The news report droned on, detailing the events that had led to the tragic accident. Zia continued watching, her heart heavy with sadness and worry. Then, her attention was caught by a particular detail in the newscast. The name of the car's owner, "Melissa thornfields," sounded familiar, to, familiar. Her eyes widened as she recognized the name. It was her mother.

Time seemed to stand still as Zia's blood ran cold. The phone slipped from her fingers, hitting the bed with a soft thud. Fear, panic, and disbelief gripped her heart, and she felt as though the air had been sucked out of her lungs. "Mom," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

⁂

The silence in the house was deafening as Zia sat alone in her room, her mind racing with a cocktail of guilt and uncertainty. Just hours earlier, she had fought bitterly with her mother, an argument fueled by her mother's harsh words and Zia's frustration over limited freedom. Frustrated by her grounding, Zia had stormed off to her room, tears streaming down her face. She had no idea that their last words were filled with anger and resentment.

As Zia sat on her bed, the weight of the guilt began to crushing down on her. She could still hear her own voice, sharp and defiant, echoing in her mind like a cruel taunt. She squeezed her eyes shut, willing the memories away. But the guilt refused to leave her, clawing at her conscience, whispering, 'This is all your fault.' 'You're the one who killed her.' Our pride will be the death of us all.

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