Her lips trembled in a whimper as tears slid down her plump cheeks, occasionally hiccuping with a sharp intake of breath. Seconds ticked by as she struggled to hold my eyes, proceeding to keep her head low, shoulders slumping in a dour manner. My eyes, vacated of all emotion, never hesitated to meet hers, however it seemed as they bore into her each passing minute a small shard of her heart disintegrated.

The soft browns of her irises would then shift around the living room. From the cracked expanse of plaster along the kitchen border, to the heap of tangled cords hanging out of the entertainment center drawer, only to rest on the setting sun’s rays peeking out from behind the slender, wooden blinds.

She gazed a moment longer before shifting her eyes back to where I stood, her expression soaked with regret.

“Please,” she choked on her breath, tears slipping from the crevices of her eyes.

“Please come here and give me a hug.”

The question rang in my ears for the second time in only a matter of minutes, and again I remained firm in my response.

I narrowed my gaze in a stern glare, slightly lifting my chin as my jaw tightened, stretching the skin taut across the bone. With an abrupt shake of my head I gathered what was left of my pride and audaciously strut up the stairs, leaving her to wallow in her self pity.

***

“Get your brother cereal.”

My stomach churned at my mother’s tone as I hurriedly yanked my door open and scrambled down the stairs, attempting to avoid her venomous temper. Although by now I was beyond accustomed to her spiteful demeanor in the mornings, my heart still continued to pulse fear through my veins.

Over and over, as the sun barely began to kiss the sky, I recited to myself that it was just a normal morning.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Within minutes I prepared a simple rehearsed breakfast for my little brother, the motions of gathering all the materials now committed to memory. However the flashing numbers on the microwave clock made my heart sink in panic.

7:18 a.m.

I flew up the stairs, gathering my belongings for school and rushing back to the kitchen where my mother was preparing her morning task of making my brother’s lunch.

“I’m leaving.”

7:27 a.m.

“Do you have money for lunch?”

“I think so.”

7:28 a.m.

Her phone highlighted her jaw, now becoming tense as she realized the total amount that remained on my lunch account. Carefully she raised her eyes to mine, steadily taking in my petite figure. Through her eyes there could only be a single course of action that would allow my severe weight loss throughout the past few weeks.

“You’re starving yourself,” no question, but rather a bold statement that rocked my insides.

“No. I’m not,” my shoulders began to tremble as I soaked in her aura of disbelief, her total distaste for what she believed to be a denial of an invisible issue.

“Don’t you dare lie to me!” Her voice clipped in a shout, echoing throughout the small space of the kitchen. She took a heavy breath and gave me her signature scowl as she began to turn around, expecting my silence to remain permanent.

That morning though I snapped.

My voiced bubbled up through my stomach as it quaked within my small frame, my heart swelling in protest, anger, defiance and hatred. Chest burning with frustration as my eyes pricked with heaps of tears, I felt my spine jerk straight, my chin lift to attention and heard helplessly as my voice escaped from the confines of my throat.

“I’m not starving myself!”

Step. Step. Crack.

I felt the tender flesh of my cheek begin to swell as my mother’s sweaty palm connected with my face. Tears welled up in my eyes, spilling down the small welt forming on my cheek as I turned away from the blurred kitchen fluorescents. My hand trembled as it grasped the handle of my bag, my back continuing to remain turned as I shuffled out the door.

The sun peaked out from behind soft clouds as I trudged to the bus stop, arriving two minutes late with a runny nose, cherry red cheek and tears streaming from my swollen eyes.

***

A slight vibration tugged at my attention as I attempted to focus on the stream of music coming from the choir as they contributed to the school’s assembly.

Against my better judgment I stealthily slipped my phone from my purse and clicked to turn my screen on. The bright shock of the screen highlighted my jaw, now tense with anger as my eyes registered the name printed across the small expanse of pixels.

“Mom: I’m really sorry for overreacting this morning. I love you!!”

I clench my teeth, scanning each individual word over and over again as my mind raced to respond. Rapidly I began to blink my eyes as they began to sting with tears, but I refused to cry, holding my lips in a grim line grasping for something, anything, to grab my attention.

With a deep resolve to display my emotions, I flexed my fingers to click the small illuminated screen off, pulling the regretful message into darkness.

***

My breath eased out of my lungs as the door creaked open, letting in the crisp February air. With my heart pounding, hands spasming at my sides and knees quaking underneath me, I slowly crept towards the aching silence resonating from the living room.

There she sat, her cheeks stained with streaks of dried tears, hands limp with sorrow.

“I really am sorry,” my mother’s voice quivered small in her throat, crawling back down into her vocal cords, seemingly begging to be taken back. “Please, sweetie, I really am, come here and give me a hug.”

My mind racked with disdain as my heart filled with frustration as I casually braced myself against the kitchen border. Again she pleaded for me to give her a long embrace, a sign of my forgiveness. Twisting my neck as I shook my head, I felt my voice bubble up from my chest as cruel words spilled past my lips.

“Maybe next time you shouldn’t accuse your daughter of starving herself,” her eyes spilled over, all her pent up emotions flushing down her plump face as she whimpered with sorrow.

For several minutes she gazed around the expanse of the living room, her expression fraught with dread. She then turned, tears slipping down her jaw, as her eyes met mine once again.

“Please,” she choked on her breath, tears slipping from the crevices of her eyes.

“Please come here and give me a hug.”

The question rang in my ears for the second time in only a matter of minutes, and again I remained firm in my response.

I narrowed my gaze in a stern glare, slightly lifting my chin as my jaw tightened, stretching the skin taut across the bone. With an abrupt shake of my head I gathered what was left of my pride and audaciously strut up the stairs, leaving her to wallow in her own self pity.

What she didn’t know, what she neglected to see…were the tears in my eyes as I trudged up the stairs.