30. Madeline
Madeline
Sitting on the stairs. The room blurred for a moment. Until I blinked. “I tried. I really tried.” I wiped my eyes again. “He just wouldn’t listen.”
My mom’s crying got louder, followed by long, drawn-out screams.
Uncle Zeke sat next to me. “Marco was a stubborn man, Maddy. It’s just who he was.”
Who he was .
I nodded, the room instantly blurry again.
The front door opened and closed. Followed by the voices of Uncle Cole and Uncle Felix. Immediately, Mom's crying got louder.
“ Where is she !”
A rush of fear ran through me as I looked back at her. Standing at the top of the stairs with something in her hand.
“Dead. My husband is dead because of you.”
I just managed to cover my head before she threw an ornament at me. The white porcelain shattering on the wooden stairs.
She isn’t rational. My hand was shaking as I grabbed the rail, pulling myself up. I had to give her space. I walked down the rest of the stairs, but before I made it to the hallway, I heard her behind me.
“Disappointing, ungrateful bitch,” she threw a framed photo off the wall at me. “This is your fault for bringing that crazy fucking family into our lives!” I pushed back against the wall as she threw one framed photo after another onto the ground in front of me. Glass shattered everywhere.
“I’m sorr?—”
She grabbed my hair. “Look at them, fucking look at them!” shoving my face against the glass frame, “Nathanial. Dead. Diana. Dead. My husband. Dead .”
“I’m... I’m ?—”
“Get out of my house.” I stumbled, as she shoved me, “Get out of my fucking house !”
I nodded, wiping my eyes and walking over the broken glass. Before I could get the keys off the table, she grabbed them.
“You’re no fucking daughter of mine. Understand. I have no children!”
Shaking, I nodded. Fuck it. I would walk. Where I would go, I had no idea. I opened the front door, only for her to slam it shut before I could step out.
“Selfish bitch. A selfish fucking bitch. So desperate for any fucking attention.”
“I’m sorry, I’m ?—”
Opening the front door, she threw my car keys into the garden. “Go on then. Fuck off. Go crawl back to that psychopath. Like the pathetic, desperate, fucking slut you are.” She pushed me, “ I said get out of my house !”
Physically trembling as she slammed the door in my face. I stared down at my bare feet. My heart was racing faster. Where had she thrown my keys? I had taken one step when the door opened again.
“Don’t you dare fucking look for them!”
I stumbled down the front step.
“You aren’t taking it. My husband paid for it. My dead husband. Get off my property. Get off my property !”
Slipping on the wet steps before I started walking up the driveway, her screaming somehow still as loud.
I had no phone. No money. For fucks sake. I wasn’t even dressed. I typed the code into the front gate. But it wouldn’t open. Fuck. I couldn’t see through all the tears.
I heard her screaming again.
Oh fuck. She’s coming.
I accidentally typed the wrong code in again. Triggering a five-minute shut down.
“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m trying!” I yelled while sobbing. She grabbed my arm, screaming, and dragging me back to the house.