Social Nighmare

The town was bustling with all forms of low life; chavs, druggies, pregnant teenagers… You name it, they were there. The paving slabs were littered with f*g-butts, used chewing gum, and the occasional condom packet (the condom packet was a bit of a shock to me, not because I am a prude but because the mentality of the people around here meant that I doubted they even knew what a condom was, never mind how one worked!) . It appeared that people were unsure as to how bins worked. It wasn’t surprising really; Chatham was full of low life scum, and many of the people that lived in the area had little or no intelligence what so ever. Alas, I fancied a trip to the book store, so I had to put up with the stench of inhumane beings.

            The book store was quite a way down the High-street from where we had parked our car, so was had to negotiate our way through the sea of unfamiliar, unwashed faces.  Lining the street stood endless rows of shops; Poundland and Wilkinson’s were a few amongst the vast array of cheap clothing stores. Whilst peering into the shop windows- not out of interest really, but more out of amazed disgust �" I recognised one of the scummy faces.

            Out of the low-life shop, hobbled my mother. I stopped in the street, staring at her with my mouth gaping open; I hadn’t seen my mother since I’d moved out when I was 16. The surprised look in my eyes soon turned into fury as memories of what she had subjected me to filled my mind.

“What’s wrong, Kitten?” My lover asked, as my grip on his hand became tighter.

“That woman,” I said, looking over to my mother who was currently stood with an unlit f*g in her mouth, scrambling in her bag for the lighter.

“What about her?” He asked.

“That’s my mother.” I replied coldly.

            Much to my displeasure, I caught my mother’s eye, and she began walking over to me. I cringed on the spot at the thought of her being in a close proximity to me. I could deal with brushing shoulders with the lowlife I didn’t know, but the way she had treated me and let me be treated just made her filth more prominent in my mind.

“Quick, walk.” I demanded, turning around and walking off, pulling my lover with me. He followed my orders, knowing that I did not want to converse with my mother under any circumstances. We both knew that it would only lead to a public row, much like the last phone call had.

            My heels clicked against the yellow paving slabs as my lover and I hurried down the high street, seeking refuge in the book store. I felt a hand touch my shoulder and I froze on the spot. I grimaced and turned around to face her.

“Yes?” I asked curtly.

“Why did you walk away from me?” She asked, her eyes wrinkling as she squinted to look up at me. My mother had always been on the short side, and at 5 foot 5, I stood three inches taller than her. Today, I was wearing 4 inch stiletto heels, so it was quite a distance from her face to mine. I was grateful for that distance because the smell of stale cigarettes and alcohol emitted from her mouth as she spoke. That had always been something I had despised about my mouth; her constant smoking and drinking.

“Because I didn’t fancy talking to you.” I replied. There was no point in making up some excuse about not seeing her; she knew I hated her.

“I am your mother,” she said, looking up at me with a cold glaze in her eyes. “Whether you like it or not. I expect to be treated with some respect.”

“My Mother? Are you sure of that? You most certainly never acted like one!” I took in a sharp breath before I continued. “And why should I treat you with respect when I certainly never got any respect from you. Or you f*****g boyfriend.”

“He’s my husband, you little b***h.”

“What does it matter? You both treated me like a piece of s**t, so I left. I never wanted to see you or him again.” The hypocrisy of her words about respect and then calling me a b***h brought a little smile to my lips. I felt my lover’s hand squeeze mine, so I looked at him. His eyes were a deep blue today, and he bore a few lines in his forehead from anger and worry.

“I’m glad you left. We aren’t restricted by your pathetic moans anymore. You ruined my life.” She said as she ran a bony hand through her unwashed, greasy hair.

“My pathetic moans? Pfft, you never took any notice of what wanted or needed. Don’t lie to me, mother. I can see past your disguise now. I’m not a kid anymore and you can’t hurt me. So f**k off.” I walked off calmly, my lover following like a well trained puppy.

“COME HERE YOU LITTLE B***H!” My mother screamed in the street. For f**k sake, I though, she always has to cause a scene. Heads turned to look at her, but most people didn’t take much notice; in this area, they were used to little scenes like this in the street. That or they were too stoned or drunk to even notice what was going on.

“Yes, mother?” I said with a sarcastic look on my face.

“How DARE you tell me to f**k off. Just who do you think you are?!” She was angry now. I laughed at her, just like Andy had laughed at me on many occasions.

“Listen, you twisted little skank. You made my life hell for 16 years. You let your a*****e of a boyfriend, husband, whatever, abuse me. You didn’t do a f*****g thing about it. You are a selfish c**t who only cares about themselves and their sex life. So, if I want to tell you to f**k off, I will, because I am a better person than you ever have been or ever could be.” My venomous words flowed out of my mouth uncontrollably. It was the first time I had told my mother what I really thought of her without censoring myself. Tears threatened to roll down my cheeks, so I blinked them away and started walking. I left my rotten mother stood in the street, f*g in one hand, and tatty bag in the other. I hoped to whatever force was out there that I never had to see her again. For I feared that if I did, I would kill her.