Page 54 of For Cowgirls and Kings

God, take me away from here.

TWENTY

ADALENE

May 22nd, 2014

“Adalene Maria,you come back here right now.” The harsh shrill of my mother’s voice sends goosebumps skittering across my skin, the exposed flesh of my arms pebbling. I halt, the command in her voice making it impossible to do anything but turn around.

My heart instantly kicks up, the familiar rush of fear coursing through me at the impending lashing I’ll inevitably get.

What did I do wrong this time?

I face her, the anxiety coursing through my veins like a thousand racing horses, each one kicking my heart into higher gear. One of these days, it’ll surely burst. And when it does, it’ll be a mercy.

“Mama?” I ask, forcing my voice to sound confident even as it quivers.

Her eyes zero in on me, her face twisting into a look of disgust. Gone is the impenetrable mask of poise and lady-like dignity. In its place is the face reserved only for me—disdain and disappointment.Her lips pull back into a snarl, and that ever familiar rush of heated anger splotches across her face.

“What are you wearing, Adalene? This is absolutely inappropriate.”

My eyes instantly drop to my clothes, scouring for the offending piece or pieces. Did I forget a bra? Did the seam in my butt rip out? Is something see-through?

Seeing nothing out of place, besides the color—today I exchanged my usual whites and pinks for purples—I raise my eyes to hers. Her arms cross over her chest, eyebrow raised like whatever it is, is so obvious, it’s embarrassing.

“I’m sorry, I don’t?—”

“That color is absolutely disgusting on you. And the fit of that shirt and pants…Adalene, are you wanting people to think we overfeed you?”

I straighten. The words aren’t unfamiliar—I’m used to being too much, too big, too loud. But the older I get, the closer I get to freedom, the more they cut through the composure I used to pride myself on.

Why does she have to be so mean?

“I’m still perfectly covered, Mama. It’s just purple—our school colors are purple and gold. I wanted to fit in for the pep rally today.” My chest begins to quiver, the wave of repressed emotions rushing me as they always do when in confrontation. The truth is, I’ve never stood up for myself, but the more I get beat down, containing these feelings, the more they fill up every open cell in my body with hatred, anger, sadness, guilt—each one heavier than the last and threatening to burst.

But I refuse to cry in front of her. It’ll only make me weaker in her eyes, and just once I want her to see me as the daughter worth something.

Her scowl instantly drops, her expression perfectly neutral even as her eyes glitter with anger. She steps toward me, but I remain perfectly still, knowing that if I back up, that too will make me look weak.

“How dare you speak back to your mother. Now, go change.”

I bite my lip, bracing for impact as I open my mouth to say the one thing I’ve never once said to my mother.

“No, Mama. I’m late for school and I’d like to wear this today.”

The instant tingles spread through the side of my face as her hand lands with a crack on my cheek. I twist away from her, but remain rooted to my spot, more afraid of avoiding her wrath than I am of enduring it.At least if I endure it, maybe she won't be as disappointed in me.

“Go upstairs and change now. You look like a slut, and I will not have any sluts in this house. Do you hear me?” Her voice is deathly quiet, the volume not needed to convey her complete disgust.

“I don’t understand,” I whisper.

“If you look like a slut, you’ll be attracting attention. And if something happens to you, it will be no one’s fault but your own. Do you want to be an embarrassment to our family? A disgrace?”

“You really think some people deserve the horrible things that happen to them?” I know I shouldn’t be pushing her, but just this once, I want her to admit the deep rooted hatred she keeps so well hidden.

“I think if you don't change your clothes, and your attitude, you’ll deserve whatever comes your way.”

I shiver, the hatred burning through my veins before I relent, turning toward my room to change. As I do, the door bangs open, my little sister racing in, in a cloud of pink tulle and shiny black pigtails.