Bury Me(19)

My door swings open and I lift my chin, filling myself with confidence for the scolding I’m sure to get. She can go right ahead and yell at me, and when she’s through, I’ll ask her what the hell she did with my journal.

My mother takes one look around my room at the mess I’ve made, tossing clothing out of every drawer of my dresser and chucking shoes and other miscellaneous items out of my closet, and huffs in annoyance.

“What on earth happened to your room, Ravenna?” she asks, as she bends down and picks up a pile of socks and underwear right next to the door, walking over to one of my open dresser drawers and depositing everything inside.

I watch in silence as she continues picking things up and putting them away.

“Honestly, Ravenna, I know things are difficult right now, but that doesn’t mean you can just behave any way you like,” she complains as she hangs up a pale purple dress in my closet.

When she has most of the items picked up from my floor, she comes over to my bed and sits down on the edge of it, folding her hands in her lap as she stares into my eyes. It makes me just as uncomfortable as it always does, but I refuse to look away. I refuse to cower when she tells me the way I spoke to my father was inexcusable. What’s inexcusable is my being made to feel guilty because I want to know what happened to me, and my mother taking something out of my room that belongs to me.

“We need to talk about something very serious.”

Here it comes…

My mother takes a deep breath before reaching over and grabbing my hands, giving them a squeeze.

“Why in the world is your beautiful pink bedding out on the lawn below your window?”

She looks at me so solemnly that I can’t stop the laugh that bursts out of me. Her eyes narrow in annoyance, and it just makes me laugh harder.

“This is not funny, Ravenna,” she scolds. “Do you have any idea how expensive that bedding was? And you just toss it out onto the grass as if it’s nothing.”

Leave it to my mother to think this is an issue of importance right now.

“I hate those blankets. The color is disgusting, and I don’t want them on my bed,” I tell her.

“You always loved the color pink,” she whispers sadly.

Pulling my hands out of hers, I cross them in front of me. “Well, I don’t like it now. I think it’s pretty clear some things have changed around here lately.”

She bites her bottom lip nervously and finally looks away from me to stare out the window next to my bed.

“Everything is going to be fine, you’ll see,” she speaks softly.

I’m not sure if her words are for me, or if she’s trying to convince herself.

“Nothing will be fine until I get answers, until I can remember all of the things that no one seems to care about helping me figure out,” I tell her angrily. “Until someone tells me why my journal is missing from my room.”

She turns her head back to look at me, tilting it to the side. She reaches her hand out toward me, but I back out of her reach. I don’t want her comfort. I want answers.

“Journal? What journal?” she asks, trying to hide the hurt she felt when I pulled away from her. “Ravenna, I don’t know what this is all about, but of course we want to help you. I would give anything to fix things, but I don’t know how.”

I let the journal problem go for the time being since she really does seem clueless about it. Instead, I focus on the fact that maybe she’s telling the truth. Maybe she really would do anything to make things better.

“You can fix it by telling me the truth. Just tell me the truth, for God’s sake!” I shout, unable to keep my anger and frustration in check no matter how kind and loving she is with me.

“I would never lie to you.”

I scoff and shake my head at her. “Of course you would, just like Dad told you to do. Just keep reminding me who I am, and everything will be fine, right? Just keep doing what he says, even if you know something isn’t right, that something is wrong with me. Don’t worry about having a mind of your own; just keep following along like the obedient little sheep you are.”

The smack across my cheek comes quickly and without warning, although I should have expected it. What I don’t expect is the flash of memory that bursts through my mind as soon as I feel the sting of her palm against the side of my face.

“You disrespectful little bitch! How dare you speak to me that way!”

Pressing my hand to my cheek to ease the sting, I glare at her as the anger on her face quickly fades and is replaced by regret.