Page 113 of Press Play

I stumble over my own two feet, and the breath I was mid-inhaling freezes in my chest.

My body knows before my brain catches up. Brandy promised she hadn’t been by; I was supposed to be safe. So why... Why is she here? Why does she always do this to me?

Her silhouette is unmistakable, dragging me into memories I’ve fought so hard to bury.

My heart pounds like a frantic warning bell, my legs rooted to the pavement as her familiar figure pulls me back to a past I’ve tried so desperately to escape.

I’m sixteen again, small and powerless. The woman I’ve worked so hard to become is gone, carried away in the wind.

As if she feels the weight of my stare, she turns. Like a gravitational pull, her dull blue eyes lock onto mine. She smiles—a twisted mirror of a gesture meant to comfort, but it only makes my stomach churn.

She’s aged. Wrinkles crease the corners of her eyes and mouth, and some of her teeth are missing now. Once, everyone fell at her feet. I wonder if they still do.

“There you are,” she coos, the sound saccharine enough to make me sick. “You’re a hard woman to reach.” Her voice—syrupy sweet—is a leash yanking me back.

My shoulders instinctively hunch, a reflex I hate but can’t quite unlearn.

“What do you want?” My voice is flat, distant.

I cling to every ounce of composure I have left. I want to scream, to lash out. But years of learning how to survive her has taught me to hold steady. Weakness is her playground.

Theo always said she can’t win if I don’t let her. I wish he were here now, but maybe it’s better that he isn’t. He seemed off this morning—avoiding eye contact, shaking his head when I asked if he wanted to come with me. It was strange. Usually, he’d jump at the chance to tag along.

“A mom can’t visit her daughter?” Her voice is drenched in condescension, each word a calculated prod at my armor. “You’ve been so distant?—”

“And you still don’t understand why.” My voice is steady, but my teeth are clenched.

Her smile falters for a fraction of a second. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

It always goes this way—gaslighting, dismissiveness, and just enough feigned innocence to make me question myself.

But I’m done.

“I set a boundary,” I snap, my shoulders stiff as stone. “And you keep crossing it. Why? Because you don’t care about my well-being. It’s always been aboutyou. You don’t miss me; you miss having me under your thumb—someone to control.”

Her expression hardens, the carefully crafted facade slipping. For the first time in years, I see her for who she truly is. If I weren’t so worked up, I’d relish the sight.

“You’re so ungrateful,” she hisses, spit flying from her cracked lips. “I did everything for you, and this is how you repay me? You treat me like some stranger.”

Her words are like a sharp slap, the kind that leaves no mark but stings all the same. My nails bite into my palms, grounding me against the tide of her venom. My breath quickens, but I won’t let her see me falter.

“You refuse to understand what I’ve been through!” The words tumble out. “You refuse to see that you’re the reason for most of it!”

She throws her head back and laughs, a sound that slices through me. “Oh, here we go—the ‘woe is me’ routine! I had it worse than you ever did. But I didn’t wallow in it—I took care of my family.”

“Took care of the family?” I repeat. “You mean abandoning me when I needed you most? Cheating on Dad simply because you could? Enabling his drug addiction? You fed me food you knew would make me sick because you didn’t care. You made me believe you were on my side, then threw me under the bus whenever it suited you. That’s not care—it’s neglect.”

Her face contorts with fury, and tears spring to her eyes. But I know better. They aren’t real.

“How dare you speak to me like that?” she shrieks. “I’m your mother! You have no idea how hard I had it, how much I sacrificed for you.”

Her voice shakes, but it’s not regret. It’s desperation. She knows she’s losing this battle.

“Fine,” she spits, taking a step back. “If you don’t want me in your life, just say it. But remember this: when you’re alone and have no one to turn to, don’t come crying to me.”

I meet her gaze head-on. “I’ve been alone my whole life because of you. But hey, two out of three daughters isn’t bad, right?”

Her mouth opens, then closes. With a dramatic huff, she spins on her heel and stalks away, muttering under her breath.

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