Unanswered, Liza Mynx [you can read anyone .txt] 📗

she liked shirts folded one way, and when I fold it that way she could tell me I was doing it wrong and make me do it over. She can be very indecisive. But, because she’s my mother, and only guardian at the moment, I can’t say anything to her.

“Respect works one way.” She said each word with such a sourness I could taste it in my mouth. I didn’t like it. “You respect me because I am your mother and that is the way it works. When you get older and become a mother yourself you may say the same thing to your son and/or daughter. Until that day though, you respect me.”
I laughed. It was sarcastic, and there wasn’t even the slightest hint of humor in it(which is what I intended of course.) “If you want me to respect you as a mother, you need to respect my privacy, and my friends, and my interests . . . and most important, what I say. If I tell you something, even if you don’t believe me, or it’s impossible, you need to respect the fact that I think it’s true.”
She was momentarily stunned. The moment was so long that I was actually stupid enough to think she thought I was right. But too soon, that stunning and wonderful moment ended when everything I had said sunk in. It was six seconds.
“Privacy is a privilege. Time to see your friends is a privilege. What you are interested in has nothing to do with how I judge you because no matter what I’ll always love you.”
You sure have a funny way of showing it.
“I only have to listen to what you say. Yes, I believe that you believe all these things you say, but that doesn’t mean I have to tell you this. I’m trying to help you realize that what you see is your mind playing tricks on you, and the only reason it’s playing tricks on you is because you are mourning the loss of your dearest friend.”
“Mom, if I wanted to be shrinked, I would have gone and seen one and not have talked to you! My mind is not playing tricks on me! The only trick that has been played around here is that you actually loved me!”
As soon as I said that I instantly regretted it. I watched her out raged face turn to a hurt one. But just because she was upset doesn’t mean it makes me feel so sorry that I’ll stop saying how I feel. I was sorry that I was hurting her, but she hurt me for a long time and I needed to let her know how I’ve felt.
“The fact that I love you is not a trick. You’re my daughter, and I have loved you from the day I found out I was pregnant with you, and I will love even when I am dead and have gone to heaven.”
“I don’t get the feeling that you love me! You never believe anything I say, you never let me have a private life, and you never even consider the fact that I may be right about a lot of things! You have never treated me like a regular person, and I am sick and tired of being treated like an idiot when I know I’m not one!”
I watched her eyes water up and felt mine water for totally different reasons. She was crying because she was hurt, and I was crying from anger and the relief I felt from getting all this off my chest.

“I’m sorry you feel that way.” She used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear that had fallen from her defeated and hurt eye. “Um, I’m going to go out to the grocery store. We need some stuff.”
I saw her leave, heard her car start and pull out of the driveway. I also heard the car go down the road. It went in the opposite direction of the grocery store. Even though I knew all these things had happened, I felt like the fight was a movie and it was playing over and over again. I saw my mom’s eyes again, this time without the anger blinding me, I really saw her.
I’d only ever seen my mother cry twice.
The first time was when I was four, and I barley remember the time, but I remember the reason very well. It was when my father died. He had died at his job. He was a chemical scientist. My mom had never liked the idea of him being one, but he apparently loved his job. One day while he was supposed to be at work, my mom got a phone call. I remembered her yelling and screaming and crying as she fell to her knees and dropped the phone. I ran to her and asked her what was wrong, but all she had done was sent me to my room. That night, my dad had not come home.
The second time she cried was when Chris died.
I am a terrible person! I hurt my mom so bad she’ll probably never talk to me again! I know what she has done to me was really painful, but I can’t imagine how hurt she’s feeling! I need to apologize to her as soon as she gets home. No, I’ll call her right now.
With my mind made up, I took out my cell phone and dialed her number. Her cell rang four times before she answered.
“Hello.” Her voice was quiet and controlled, but also strained.
“Hey, mom. I wanted to call you to tell you I was sorry. What I said was really mean and hateful and rude and disrespectful and . . .”
“Claire,” she interrupted.
“I’m so sorry. I know that an apology isn’t enough to make up for what I said, but-”
I was cut off mid-sentence by a horrifying scream. My mom’s horrifying scream! I heard some skid noises at first. Then, there was a huge noise that roared in my ear. It was like hearing the sound of thunder, but instead of being on the ground you were in between the two fighting clouds.
“Mom!” I shrieked, my voice going up thirty octaves in doing so.
There was no answer.
“Mom,” I whispered now.
The phone disconnected.
I dropped my phone and got my keys in one movement. My next move was flying to my car and down the street in the direction my mom had gone in.

7. Life Saver

All I had to do was follow the smoke that rose in the direction that my mom had driven her car. Then, I reached the sight.
My mom’s dark green Jaguar was crushed upside down into a light pole. There was a big, black truck on the other side of my mom’s car. It was not upside down, but it looked like it had flipped over a few times before my mother’s car stopped it. The hood of the black truck was on fire, and there was smoke coming up from my mom’s car. It was like that day at school last year with all the police men and yellow tape.
“MOM!”
I jumped out of my car and ran under the yellow tape toward my mom’s car. An officer stopped me though. He grabbed my hand and with strong grasp he pulled me away from my mom’s car. I was about four feet from it when he grabbed me.
“Get off of me!” I yelled it while punching his arm. I was scared for my mom though, so my punches were not filled with my strength.
“I’m sorry, Claire, but I can’t let you go to those cars right now. Especially since that truck is on fire. It’s going to explode any second now,” he said while pulling me out of the taped zone. I recognized his voice to be detective Lanther.
“Mr. Lanther, get my mom out of the car before that truck explodes! She may still be alive!”
He looked down into my eyes and there were so many words he wanted to say but he couldn’t and his eyes told me that. He said, “Claire, we’ve tried everything we can do. There isn’t a way to get your mother out of that car. Her door is pushed up against the truck, the passenger door is against the pole. It’s impossible. I’m sorry.”
“So you’re just going to sit here and tell me my mom is going to die and you’re not going to do a damn thing to stop it!” I screamed. I was so angry and scared that I didn’t care about what I said or did right then. “Well, I’m going to go try! It’s more then what you’re doing here!”
I went to go towards the tape, but his hand caught my arm and he held me in place.
“Let go of me! Let me go! Get off! I have to go save her!”
Just then, the truck blew up and the whole thing was on fire. My mom’s car was on fire, too.
“MOM!”

I ran to her car, under the tape, past all the police men who tried to stop me. No one could keep me from my mom. I got to her car and came up to her door. When the truck blew up it moved away from my mom’s car just enough so I could get through. I opened the door despite all the flames trying to reach me and engulf me in heat.
I saw her body. I only saw her body. Without thinking about what could happen to me, I reached into the car and tried to unbuckle her seat belt. But it was jammed. I thought fast and pulled my Swiss army knife out of my pocket. It was a gift from my dad when I was two, so I carried it with me everywhere I went because it makes me feel like he’s with me all the time. I took the scissors out and started to cut the seat belt. When I got it off of her I pulled her out, not caring about the burns I got from the flames everywhere.
When people talk about how you get a boost of adrenalin in near death experiences, they know what they’re talking about. I felt enough strength in me to carry my mom out of the car and over to detective Lanther.
Her body was burned everywhere and her skin was black. Her eyes were closed and I had guessed she was unconscious when the truck exploded. Her clothes were ripped because of the flames.
“Get her to the ambulance, she’s still alive.”
I looked up and I saw two men holding a stretcher and Lanther had just given them the orders.
She’s still alive?! Mom’s not dead?!
“My mom is okay?”
Mr. Lanther smiled a little reassuring smile and said, “She is still alive, but she is badly injured so they need to take her to the I.C. unit in the hospital. You can go ride with her if you’d like.”
I didn’t even answer. I ran to the ambulance and jumped in. I sat right next to her.
  

“Claire.”
Her voice was faint, and it was full of the pain she went through trying to say words.
“Mom!” I yelled, full of relief and joy.
The crash happened two weeks ago, and ever since then my mom has stayed in the hospital. I also stayed for a few days because I had a third degree burn on