Chapter 17: I Wish You Weren't My Mother

"Syd. Open the door."

Mom's voice sounded tired, so tired, but I didn't care.

I remained where I was, buried under the covers, door firmly locked.

"Go away!" I yelled at her.

"Syd, honey, please," she begged. "Let me explain..."

I sat up and threw the hideous pink silk pillow she forced into my life at the door as hard as I could. It made a less than satisfying thunk.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!" I searched around for bigger and more breakable stuff to throw.

"Sydlynn Thaddea Hayle, you open this door at once!" Mom's voice went up an octave and about a decibel in volume.

"NO!" I scrambled from the bed and stood right in front of the door, so close I could see the veins in the wood and screamed at her as loud as I could. "NEVER! I HATE YOU! I WISH YOU WEREN'T MY MOTHER!"

The tears started, mine and probably hers, but I sobbed too hard to care about her at all. I threw myself back onto the bed and poured my heart out onto my pillow. How could she? How could Dad? Wasn't it bad enough they