Writing Prompt #9 - Slap
I knew what I wanted to do with this. I've had this scene in my head since shortly after the prompt was posted.
However, it did not want to write itself until now. Finally I got the words out. Huzzah.
Yes, it's more sad little Min. Surprised?
At the table, she cried. Beautifully, elegantly, gracefully. It was annoying even to someone who was only eleven turns. How she could sit there and cry and look miserable and be. . .perfect. I hated my mother.
Well, it was not so much hating her as knowing I was going to disappoint her forever. Forever. Then again, I’d known that when I was five. It had come in a flash, that knowledge, and I’d lived with it for the last six turns.
All of which was entirely beside the point as we waited. We waited for him to come home. Because I had made her cry and there was nothing else at all that needed saying. If I had apologized. . .well, that wasn’t going to happen.
So, we waited. She cried and I glared at her for crying. How dare she /do/ this! I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t said anything wrong. But here we were waiting for Navan to return and pat her on the back and scold me. The odds of getting dinner were pretty slim. Luckily I’d had lunch.
I don’t even remember how the conversation had started. Well, I do remember how it started, but figuring out where it went wrong was something else. When the door opened I was almost relieved. No more mournful sobs into a carefully pressed handkerchief. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes since Navan would have noticed.
The first thing he did, of course, was go to her. I may as well have not been there. Later I would learn to slip out. A little older and a little wiser I would have avoided the entire mess. Ears shut to his consolation I missed what else was said. Another lesson I learned that day: never stop listening. Ever.
Next thing I knew Navan was releasing Corin from his embrace and she rose to her feet, sniffling in a dignified manner as she went into the other room. Delicate and all she wouldn’t want to remain for what would happen.
“What were you thinking?” The first words out of his mouth for me. “How dare you speak to your mother in that fashion? Haven’t you been taught better?”
“What? Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean. . .Dad. It wasn’t my fault.” If it sounded overly childish there was hope he would forgive me since I was still a child.
“You’d no right to say that to your mother. After all she’s done for you.” Which was as far as he got. I was making more than my share of mistakes today. “No right? Did you ask what she said? Did you think that it was right for her to say that to me? No. You don’t care is all. She can say whatever she wants and if it hurts me who cares. Not you. She was a bitch.” Oh, oops. That slipped out.
In his defense I don’t think he even was aware of what he did until after he did it. One minute he was standing there with a disapproving frown and the next the noise of his palm hitting my cheek drew Corin from her post listening on the other side of the door.
She looked shocked although it could have been residual shock over what I had called her. I didn’t say a thing. How could I as I stared up at him and kept new sprung tears from spilling down my cheeks. No, I said not a word.
If he would cause me pain I would return the favor. Ignoring /her/ I looked at him. Just looked. Then I turned and walked over to the little alcove that was my room. Without looking behind me I pulled the curtain closed behind me and laid on my bed. I could hear them whispering and creeping around. I did not give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry. I’d long ago learned how to lie still and silent and cry.
The fact it was this memory that occurred to me as I sat with my parents was not a good one. Not that I suspected he would slap me again. It was the only time he had. Of course, I’d also learned to keep my thoughts to myself. As they droned on I nodded where appropriate, was quiet the whole time, and fled as soon as I could. It was only their disappointed and disapproving looks that followed me. Still, unlike last time as I left them to their privacy I did not cry. It was past time to stop letting them get to me.
However, it did not want to write itself until now. Finally I got the words out. Huzzah.
Yes, it's more sad little Min. Surprised?
At the table, she cried. Beautifully, elegantly, gracefully. It was annoying even to someone who was only eleven turns. How she could sit there and cry and look miserable and be. . .perfect. I hated my mother.
Well, it was not so much hating her as knowing I was going to disappoint her forever. Forever. Then again, I’d known that when I was five. It had come in a flash, that knowledge, and I’d lived with it for the last six turns.
All of which was entirely beside the point as we waited. We waited for him to come home. Because I had made her cry and there was nothing else at all that needed saying. If I had apologized. . .well, that wasn’t going to happen.
So, we waited. She cried and I glared at her for crying. How dare she /do/ this! I hadn’t done anything wrong. I hadn’t said anything wrong. But here we were waiting for Navan to return and pat her on the back and scold me. The odds of getting dinner were pretty slim. Luckily I’d had lunch.
I don’t even remember how the conversation had started. Well, I do remember how it started, but figuring out where it went wrong was something else. When the door opened I was almost relieved. No more mournful sobs into a carefully pressed handkerchief. I stopped myself from rolling my eyes since Navan would have noticed.
The first thing he did, of course, was go to her. I may as well have not been there. Later I would learn to slip out. A little older and a little wiser I would have avoided the entire mess. Ears shut to his consolation I missed what else was said. Another lesson I learned that day: never stop listening. Ever.
Next thing I knew Navan was releasing Corin from his embrace and she rose to her feet, sniffling in a dignified manner as she went into the other room. Delicate and all she wouldn’t want to remain for what would happen.
“What were you thinking?” The first words out of his mouth for me. “How dare you speak to your mother in that fashion? Haven’t you been taught better?”
“What? Yes, sir. I mean, no, sir. I mean. . .Dad. It wasn’t my fault.” If it sounded overly childish there was hope he would forgive me since I was still a child.
“You’d no right to say that to your mother. After all she’s done for you.” Which was as far as he got. I was making more than my share of mistakes today. “No right? Did you ask what she said? Did you think that it was right for her to say that to me? No. You don’t care is all. She can say whatever she wants and if it hurts me who cares. Not you. She was a bitch.” Oh, oops. That slipped out.
In his defense I don’t think he even was aware of what he did until after he did it. One minute he was standing there with a disapproving frown and the next the noise of his palm hitting my cheek drew Corin from her post listening on the other side of the door.
She looked shocked although it could have been residual shock over what I had called her. I didn’t say a thing. How could I as I stared up at him and kept new sprung tears from spilling down my cheeks. No, I said not a word.
If he would cause me pain I would return the favor. Ignoring /her/ I looked at him. Just looked. Then I turned and walked over to the little alcove that was my room. Without looking behind me I pulled the curtain closed behind me and laid on my bed. I could hear them whispering and creeping around. I did not give them the satisfaction of hearing me cry. I’d long ago learned how to lie still and silent and cry.
The fact it was this memory that occurred to me as I sat with my parents was not a good one. Not that I suspected he would slap me again. It was the only time he had. Of course, I’d also learned to keep my thoughts to myself. As they droned on I nodded where appropriate, was quiet the whole time, and fled as soon as I could. It was only their disappointed and disapproving looks that followed me. Still, unlike last time as I left them to their privacy I did not cry. It was past time to stop letting them get to me.