Escape [Completed]

chapter 32

"Mom!" I screech for the eighth times from the bottom of my lungs waiting for a reply, but unfortunately, I get no reply back.

"Mom, your daughter is crying, I think she might need something!" I screech again, trying to overcome the ear-splitting  scream of my sister who is on my bed, lying on her back, crying her heart out.

She's been crying for the past ten minutes and I have no idea what to do. I've checked her diaper, but it's freshly clean, I've strived to make her smile, but to my horror, it was a big mistake.

Goodness, when a baby cries, her mom is supposed to be there to try to calm her down and say sweet words to her, you know. But what is ours doing? Unfortunately, I don't have an answer to this sudden question.

To be honest mom is denying Eldon–yes, we named her Eldon– well, I named her, because mom said that she didn't want to pick a name for her. And what was worse for me was the fact that she said that in the hospital, in front of people who were looking at her– and I still remember their faces– with disgust and hatred.

She said and I quote: "Do whatever you want to do, I don't give a fuck about her," Yes, I remember that sentence.

It strikes me right in my heart when she says such words about this innocent human who doesn't deserve any of this. Eldon didn't want to be born in such mad circumstances. Mom is the faulty one, it's all her fault, but she doesn't want to admit it.

"Okay baby, I'll come back, I'm going to call mommy real quick," I stroke her some brown hair, and I get out of the room determined to get my mom upstairs so that she can take care of her daughter.

"Mom!" I enter the living area looking around as if I'm playing hide and seek with her. It's is really infuriating. How can a daughter chase her mom to make her apprehend that she has a baby upstairs who's waiting for her.

As she is neither in the kitchen and nor in the living room, I decide to look in the bathroom downstairs, where she's mostly doing I-don't-know-what.
I grab the doorknob and turn it to the left and, to my wonderment, it's open, which is pretty strange, because from what I've experienced, she usually locks the door.

I open the door widely and examine the room without walking in, the place is the same as it was the last time I was in there, which was ten months ago. The room is almost dark, only a dull shelf light is on.

I walk further into the room and  find mom sitting in her black chair– the same chair where I found her unconscious ten months ago– her head is almost buried into the tiled table. Her back is facing me, so I don't know what she's doing. What intrigues me the most is that she didn't hear me open the door, she seems so focused.

My feet move forward before my mind can proceed that decision. I stand behind her, enough to see what she's doing.
My eyes go wide when I realise what she's doing.

That's a silly joke right? Her newborn is upstairs waiting for her mommy and she is here in this insanity place doing what she's doing. In fact, I'm confused about exactly what she's doing.

In front of her on the table she has white powder squared on a piece of unused fabric, and she's cutting papers in pieces

"Mom," I say, but it sounds more like a whisper to me... I didn't want to scare her.

Though my attempt didn't work, I did scare her because she literally jumped out of her seat, which causes her piece of papers to fall on the ground.

"What the fuc–... what are doing here?" She asks as if she's spreading her venom on me. Her voice is so aloof, so different from the soft voice I heard before.