Page 44 of Beneath Her Skin

“Camila, you’re here! Did you bring me any exotic chocolate from Iceland?” Mama walks into the kitchen and stands right in front of me to address mytía.

And just like that, my mood is doused in gasoline and set aflame. My eye twitches when Camila responds, so I step around Mama to face her directly. “Did you not hear me talking?”

Mama blinks as if she just realized I was in the room. “You weren’t talking,” she says simply before returning to her conversation, dismissing me like a child.

It’s little shit like that, that pisses me off. Honestly, she just has to breathe and I want to strangle her. I am so fed up with anyminor thing she says or does, all I want to do is leave her behind with this awful place and never look back.

“Yes. Yes, I was,” I continue.

“Tiana,por favor. You’re being rude right now. Go take a shower and clean up. We have guests coming for dinner tonight, and you look like apordiosera.”

My clothes look far from a homeless person, but she loves to get a rise out of me. We are having one guest. My boyfriend, who is here all the time because mommy dearest thinks he’s perfect for me.

Leaving them to their conversation, I take a steaming hot shower that does nothing to calm me down. By the time I’m out, Camila is long gone and Mama is in the kitchen prepping for dinner tonight. The longer I watch her move so at ease, the angrier I get. The words tumble out before I can stop them.

“Why are you the way that you are?”

She halts all her movements, turning to face me with a deadly calm. “Speak up, Tiana. You know I can’t stand it when you mumble.”

The sharp glance she throws my way is meant to be intimidating, but I became immune to all her tricks years ago. She doesn’t scare me anymore, but she’s trained me so well that I still sit when she says sit.

“Why are you the way that you are?” I all but shout at her, enunciating each word.

Her features morph into that familiar mask of malevolence, and I already know how this conversation will end.

“You dare try to disrespect me after everything I’ve done for you,malagradecida?” Here we fucking go. “Why amIthe way I am? I have no idea howyouturned out to be my greatest fuck up when I did nothing but provide you with the very best. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be growing up in the streets of Cuba, selling your body to buy some dinner for the night.”

My face twitches, unable to contain my disgust. “I am not you, nor will I ever be.”

She mocks me with a bitter laugh. “Of course not. You are nothing but an ungrateful little bitch.” She takes slow steps toward me, her breathing speeding up. “You don’t deserve half of the shit I did for you. If we were still in Cuba you wouldn’t have anything, so you should be thanking me after everything I’ve had to put up with.”

My vision blurs around the edges, a haze pulling me in. My fists clench, but she backhands me before I can process my next thought.

“Your father left us because of you. Everything is your fault, yet you have the nerve to blame me. No one else will ever love you because of the wayyouare. That boyfriend of yours will get sick of you eventually and leave you for someone with more meat on their bones. Look at you,” she says while shoving me against the island and holding me down, disgust and disdain bleeding from her features. “Flaca y mala.You make me sick, walking around looking like a skeleton with a sack of skin draped over it. Eat a real meal or two, then maybe your boyfriend will start to love you. He has a career and a life ahead of him, yet you still work at a dirty diner. Do better.”

She wants me to eat more, yet she chains the fridge shut when she’s mad at me, or sleeping. Any snacks growing up were hers, and they stayed in her room. Anytime I try to do better, she holds me back. She is the fucking problem.

I want to grab the butcher knife lying next to my head and see how many chops it would take to sever the whole head completely, but the little girl in me remains shocked that the woman who was supposed to love and nurture me, the only person who could protect me, is the one holding the needles that pierce every part of my being. She never cared what the men she brought home did to me, as long as they didn’t leave her. Yet,none of them stayed. That, of course, was also my fault. I hate that I’m always torn between how much I hate her, and how much I want her love.

Is love worth any of this shit?

At this point, I don’t think I would know what love was if it slapped me in the face and saidI’m right here.

“Does it make you feel good about yourself? When you look at me and tell me all the things you want to tell yourself, does it make you feel better about your pathetic life?” Another slap to the face. I give her a big, bloody, toothy smile before spitting on the floor and continuing. “You hate me, but you hate the idea of being alone even more. That’s why you keep me around, isn’t it?”

She falls silent, but her face grows a deeper shade of red and I know my words got to her.

“Cuidadito. Careful. Choose your next words very carefully, Tiana.” Mama whispers while her hand snakes up to my throat.

The pressure makes me smile. “You can’t keep me here forever. You’ll die alone, and that is enough for me.”

“You will never leave me,” she grits out as I cough to distract her from grabbing the knife. Once it’s in my hand, I slice across her thigh and sprint out of the house as she stumbles back in shock, snatching my keys on the way out.

“Get back here, Tiana!Te mato, perra,” follows me to my bike. She always threatens to kill me, yet she never does it.

Don’t threaten me with a good time.

Hopping on my Aprilia RS660, it revs to life until the dust leaves behind the only place I’ve never been able to escape from. My own personal hell.

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