Love, Peaches.

B E T R A Y E D

REBECCA

I grabbed the box of cereal down from the top of the fridge and placed it on the counter before grabbing out the milk carton. As I poured the cereal into a bowl, I felt a hand squeeze my bottom which caused me to turn around quickly. "What the hell," I shouted!?

"It's alright baby," He smirked as his hand still remained on my behind, "I'm a great lay.. just as your mother."

I shoved his arm away, "I'm not as easy as my mother."

He grabbed the carton of milk from my hands before chugging it into his mouth. By the time he had enough, milk had fallen into his beard hairs and all the way down to his chest hairs. "I can change that."

I took the milk carton back, "You're a pig." I continued to make my bowl of cereal when something shoved me against the counter, spilling the carton all over the counter and off the edge.

"You are going to want to take that back, babe." He held me by the throat.

"Please let me go." I cried out.

He flipped my body so that our fronts were touching, "Oh babe.. I haven't even gotten started."

"Please," My voice felt shaky, "I'm only sixteen." I gulped. That line never really stopped any of these men. Hell. One of my moms one night stands even got even more turned on when I told him my age. My mom once brought a man home who tried to get into bed with me when I was ten.. TEN. Of course, my mom had always been too drunk to notice.. and the ones she does notice are the ones where she tries to accuse me of "taking her man".

He began to slide his hands down my hips as he maintained eye contact, "Look at me. I want to see your eyes when-"

"Rebecca?" A voice came from behind us.

"Mom!" I shoved him away and ran towards her, "I am so glad that you-"

She slapped me across the face, "Are you trying to hurt me, young lady?"

"What?"

"I saw Patrick first!" She walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his torso, "I am so sorry babe. She always does this with every man who enter our house."

"Mom!"

She held up her finger to my face, "Don't you dare start with the excuses again."

"I have never had excuses!" I shouted back, "He was trying to-"

She cut me off, "Rebecca Donaldson.. I am so sick and tired of hearing the lies that spew out of your mouth. Apologize to Patrick right this second."

"No."

"Excuse me?"

I folded my arms across my chest, "I'm not apologizing to a fucking CREEP." I went to grab my bowl of cereal when my mom smacked the bowl out of my hands; the bowl shattering to the ground, spilling milk and glass shards everywhere.

"Last time I checked, I was the one who paid for the food in this house."

"What else am I supposed to eat?"

"You should have thought about that before you ever tried to sleep with MY MAN."

"I don't really want your crummy seconds."

Patrick struck me across the cheek with a knife he had found laying on the counter, "You say anything else that's disrespectful and I'll make sure that you'll get the blade next time."

I looked back towards my mother as I rubbed my cheek. Growing up, people constantly told us just how much we looked alike. I used to think that it was a compliment; I would always want to wear my brown curls in the exact way that she wore them.. I would always try and sneak into my mom's makeup collection so I could wear the face she was so proud of.. I even used to sneak into her closet to put on some of her favorite dresses so I could model it across the living room. But now.. now, when I look at my mother, all I can see is just some random woman.. a stranger. Looking back, I cringed at just how naïve my young self was. As a child, I never quite understood just how bad of a person my mother was. Or maybe I simply just refused to believe it. Maybe I only wanted to focus on my mom being a good person so I'd grow up not having to turn out to be exactly like she was; an alcoholic with a kink for terrible, terrible creeps dressed up in men's clothing.

"I thought mothers were supposed to be the ones to protect their daughters from harms' way." The annoyance in my voice came out but I couldn't help it, "You have never thought about my safety or wellbeing, ever. All you ever cared about was how much you had to drink before you could finally convince a man to come back home with you."

I stormed off to my room, slamming the door shut before sliding to the ground and leaning up against it. Tears had slipped their way down my cheeks as I curled up into a ball on the floor. The pain felt smothering as my eyes began to close.

I've never felt more betrayed by my own mother than I do right now..

N I G H T M A R E

Reality fluttered back to me the second I reopened my eyes. The pain. The heartbreak. The betrayal. My arm reached out to press my body up against the matted up carpet around me, but my legs felt like instant jello the second I tried to get up.

"Rebecca," a voice called out, "Come on out here."

I moaned out. Using my arms to push myself up, I managed to get myself to stand up straight and leaned against the door, "Do I really have too?"

"Rebecca Donaldson," a deeper voice, probably Patrick, called out, "Get your ass out here."

I let out an even louder groan as I turned the knob, but the door flung open and all I could feel was an extremely tight grip on my hair.

"I told you to get the fuck out here," The deeper voice stated.

"Let go of me!" I tried to grab his wrist but he grabbed ahold of mine first.

"Where I come from," He responded, "ignoring a person meant you had to be punished."

"Well, this isn't where you came from." A pain shot up my back as he slammed me into the wall.

"You will respect your elders while you live under this roof."

"You don't even respect me under this roof," I answered him. I probably should have just stayed silent but I couldn't figure out how to keep my mouth shut, "You don't even live here!"

He struck me across the face, "I told you to respect me!"

I looked over at my mother who was just sitting at the table sipping her coffee as she watched this stranger strike her child. She watched. As if my pain was something she found interesting on television. I found myself storming over to her and snatching the cup from her hands, "Are you enjoying the show?"

"Rebecca." Patrick said in a low, stern voice.

"I am talking to my mother," I replied, "or at least that's what I thought she was. She never seems to treat me like I'm her daughter. For all I know, I was just this burden someone dropped at her doorstep that she just couldn't figure out how to get rid of."

My mother just sat at the table, twiddling her thumbs, unable to make eye contact with me.

"Look at me, mom."

She didn't.

"Mom.. please." I could feel the tears now, "Mom."

"Give your mother back her coffee, Rebecca." Patrick grabbed my shoulder.

I turned around and threw the cup of hot coffee directly in his face, "Fuck off!"

He grabbed my neck and threw me up against the table, "Listen here you disrespectful piece of garbage. Your mother-"

"Patrick." a softer voice spoke out, "Let go of my child."

Unbelievable. "Now I'm your child?" I turned to her once Patrick had let go of me.

"You will always be my child."

"Oh, really?"

"Yes," She answered, "I have always loved you.. ever since I gave birth to that beautiful little head of hair."

I looked into her eyes, "When's my birthday? What's my middle name? How many times have you ever stopped all of those drunken one night stands from ever trying to have their way with me?"

She smiled at me and stroked my hair, "August 15th, Patricia, and I've stopped every single one of them."

A tear slid down my cheek, "Are you serious?"

"What?"

"Mom," I pushed her hand off my hair, "My birthday is January 17th, and my middle name is Reya. You had named me after dad's mother."

"At least I got one question right."

"That would be true," I pointed out, "If you would have believed me when I told you about what they had tried to do to me."

"Rebecca," She tried to brush my hair but I pushed her hand away.

"Don't."

"You are my daughter."

"I'm really not," I wiped the tears off my cheek, "I never was." I walked back towards the door, "I cannot keep doing this anymore. I can't let you keep ruining my life as you destroy yours."

My mother ran over to the front door and grabbed my arm, "You cannot be serious, Rebecca Donaldson."

I shoved her off, "I can't stay here."

"Where would you go?"

"Anywhere." I replied, "Hell, maybe I'll even go to dad's.. I don't know."

I pushed her off, "I have to. I can't stay here."

"Where will you go?"

"Anywhere. Maybe I'll even go to dads, I don't know."

"Rebecca.."

"No," I responded, "You can't just lock me up and throw away the key."

"You're only sixteen. We can just file a report." Patrick spoke out from the other room.

"Oh, really?" I made eye contact with him as I spoke the next line, "I doubt my mom would willingly want to get the police involved when her recent activities."

"Don't do this." My mom pleaded.

"See.. That's the problem, mom." I told her, "You're acting as if you'll be sad if I leave.. yet I haven't seen you shed a single tear. You acted as if you were heartbroken when you just accused me of trying to sleep with 'your man' earlier, but now.. I see nothing."

I took one last, final breath, "Goodbye mom."

"Rebecca."

"Mom," I sighed, "I don't want to stay."

She grabbed my hand, "At least let me pack you a bag."

I stared back at her, "What?"

"I'll allow for you to get out of here.. I owe you that.. but just let me pack you a bag so I know that you will at least be safe."

"Fine."

I watched as my mother scrambled around the house from my bedroom to her bedroom to the kitchen with just a large duffel bag. I could have probably left without her realizing I was gone, but I couldn't find myself to get up the courage to just walk out. A small part of me wanted this.. and another small part of me was a bit curious as to what she would pack in the bag. I looked around the house one last time at all the photos plastered across the walls. I stepped over to a frame of me with both of my parents. It was the photo we had taken at Disney World with Mickey Mouse back when I was only six.. before things had gone to shit. It had to be the best vacation I've been on that didn't involve drug deals gone bad that I could remember. I took the photo off the wall and held it close to me.. I had to take this with me.

By the time my mom came back to the front door, she had a large duffel and a backpack both full of stuff. "I packed you some of your clothes, as well as some necessities that you'll probably need and some food to hopefully last you until you got to your dads." She took a card out of her pocket, "Take this."

"I can't mom. You didn't even have to do all this-"

"Rebecca," She said in a soft, stern voice, "As the mother of a daughter who is about to walk out of her life.. I am ordering you to take this card. I want to know that you will have the money you need to stay safe."

I took the credit card and slipped it inside my pocket, and placed the picture from the wall at the top of the duffel before zipping it shut and throwing both bags over my shoulder. My mom watched as I opened the door, "Goodbye mom."

No response.

I stepped out and walked towards the sidewalk, but before I was even off the lawn I had heard the door close behind me.

"Goodbye old life. You will not be missed." I gave off a little wave as I walked down the street.

I had no idea where the hell I was going.. I just knew that I was finally officially alone.