Things said that morning still stung. She would not have dared to speak to her mother like that. Every day, it was the same thing over and over.. Emily put on the shortest skirt she could find, the thinnest shirt she owned and a pair of slip and slides, no matter what the weather, no matter the occasion and, every day they fought.
It had come to a head this morning, Emily had finally gone too far putting up her middle finger and calling her a b---..
Her reaction had been automatic, a stinging slap across the face.. she read her the riot act, ending it by calling her daughter a whore.
After that, everything just passed in a haze..
She looked at her watch, 12:10.. she could still grab a bite. She would call Emily and make some plans with her for later.. maybe she needed to approach this with a little more understanding, Emily was her baby but, she was 16.. Oh yes 16, she remembered that.. smiling, she removed the little flip top from her pocket, grabbed the handle of the cafe door and pulled..
There was a split second, there was bright orange light, there was the feeling of being punched in the chest.. then, there was nothing.