Page 80 of Off-Limits
It’s going to be a long fucking day.
Chapter Twenty-Two
DOTTIE
All I can feel is this fucking plug in my ass. It’s not uncomfortable anymore, like Damon said, but with each movement I feel myself growing wetter and wetter. A virgin three days ago, now I have a vibrating butt plug in my ass, and I like it.
I look at my phone for the umpteenth time. I still have hours to kill before I make my way to Rafters Falls.
Arrie hasn’t responded to my message since I left the office, and my mother’s message still haunts my mind from earlier. They want to see me, which is code for they need more money.
I already gave them five grand, and I’ll probably give them more. Even after everything they’ve done to me, and the endless emotional abuse they’ve put me through, I still love and hate my parents in the same breath.
More than that, I pity them.
But not the hurt little girl that lives inside of me.
She is angry and vengeful, still banging on the inside of my chest and screaming at the top of her lungs, just wanting to be seen, heard, and loved.
But my parents will only love me as long as I give them what they want.
Images of my mother resurface in my mind, the many times she attempted to take her own life, whether as a cry for help, or to bury the memories of the sexual abuse she experienced at the hands of her own father when she was young. I couldn’t imagine what she went through as a child dealing with that, I only wish I understood her more.
And that’s why I always go back, always give in, even when I know it will hurt me in the process. So, I do what I used to always do, I allow the guilt to capsize, get in my car and drive to my parents.
My father hasn’t mentioned much about his illness, and I wonder if he has what his dad died from when he was a young boy. My Nono died of leukemia when my father was eleven, and after he passed, a part of my Nona died with him.
I think about all the fights, the drugs, the alcohol, and the verbal and physical abuse, until I pull into the driveway. I’m shot to hell when I arrive, and I spend a few minutes in my car collecting myself before working up the courage to open the door and get out.
The fishtank light is off tonight, signalling my parents have no drugs to sell, and I admit to myself at least that is at least one saving grace. I really don’t want to be here when one of the dropkicks I went to school with, pop around for some prescription pills, or whatever my dad has managed to find.
I’m about to knock, but it opens before I have a chance. My mum stands there in her signature black leggings and a black singlet, her sad, dark brown eyes speaking a language to me that I cannot understand.
“Hey, bub. I wasn’t sure you would come over,” she says just as my dad coughs.
Anxiety I hadn’t expected to feel bleeds out. Mum looks over her shoulder, a worried look on her weathered face.
She is still beautiful to me, but she was absolutely gorgeous before her habits took hold, robbing her spirit more than it already was. My mother always said nothing when my father lost the plot, and the only time she let her mouth fly, was when she was high or drunk.
I hated those times, because the fighting and abuse was always worse.
“Mani! Who is that?”
“Come inside, bub, I made some suft.”
“Ok, ma. How are you?” I say, closing the door behind me.
“I’m doing fine. You know me.”
Those words say everything that she doesn’t. She isn’t fine, and whatever is weighing her down, she will keep to herself because she doesn’t want to be a burden.
We move through the house, the wooden floors creaking with each step. Dad sits on the couch with a stubby in his hand and the bong on the table. Mum gives me an apologetic look and sits next to him, grabbing her stubby. Swallowing the many retorts festering on my tongue, I take a seat across from them and see what they are watching on tele. It looks like a rerun of Home and Away, as Alf Stewart barrels on the screen screamingYa flaming galah’s, so I look away and focus on my dad.
He takes a sip of his beer and leans back in the couch, his eyes finding mine.
“How are you, baby? We weren’t sure you’d come back around.”
“I’m good, dad. I’m only here for a little while longer, so I wanted to check in. How are you feeling?”
