I Had You for Myself!
And where exactly do you think youre going? Veronicas voice dripped with disapproval.
Emily sighed heavily as she zipped up her bag. Her stomach twisted at the familiar toneher mothers signature pre-interrogation voice.
To work, Mum, she replied, keeping her voice steady.
What work? Veronicas pitch shot up an octave. Youre not on the rota today! I remember! Where are you really going? Spit it out!
Emily turned to face her mother. There she stood, arms crossed in the doorway, a human barricade of suspicion.
They asked me to cover a shift at the shop. Extra cash never hurts, Emily explained calmly.
Liar! Veronica snapped, stepping forward. Think I dont know? Off gallivanting with some lad, arent you? Ungrateful! I raised you, gave up everything, and this is how you repay melying to my face!
Veronica was in full swing now, her cheeks blotching red.
Emily met her gaze. The exhaustion, the years of pent-up hurt in her eyes made Veronica pausejust for a second.
Come with me if you dont believe me, Emily said softly, then walked out without waiting for an answer.
Behind her, Veronicas shouts dissolved into indistinct noise.
On the walk to work, Emilys thoughts ricocheted like a trapped bird. Twenty-four years old. Twenty-four, and she was still treated like a twelve-year-old. It wasnt normal. Other girls her age had flats, careers, boyfriends. Her? She hadnt even made it to uni.
The memory stung. Shed dreamed of studying education. Shed aced her A-levels, got the gradesthen her mother had exploded.
What do you need uni for? Prancing about like some fresher! And wholl look after me? Veronica had shrieked.
So Emily had caved, as usual.
Mum got her the job at the corner shopfive minutes away, max. So I know where you are, Veronica had said.
And she checked. Regularly. Popping in under the guise of needing milk or bread, really just making sure Emily hadnt escaped.
This had started years earlier. Secondary school: home to school and back, timed to the minute. Two minutes late meant a full inquisitionwho, what, why. Wanting to walk home with friends? Scandal. A birthday party invite? Begging, tears, then Absolutely not.
Who knows what goes on at those parties, Veronica would scoff.
Emily pushed open the shop door. The jingle of the bell, the smell of fresh pastries. She changed into her uniform in the back, then stepped onto the floor.
Somehow, shed accepted this. Day after year. As she restocked shelves, she eavesdropped on her coworkersLucy and Sophie, giggling over weekend plans.
Saturday, that new café by the square! Lucy chirped. Then the late film!
Perfect! Sophie agreed. Sunday, if its nice, we could just wander the park.
Emily turned away. Her weekend plans? Home. Mum. Hoovering, telly under Veronicas hawk-eyed supervision.
Two days later, over porridge at the kitchen table, Emilys simmering rebellion finally boiled over.
Veronica slammed her hand down. Emily jumped, spoon clattering.
Whats that face for? Like youve lost a fiver and found a penny. Out with it!
Emily looked up. Her heart hammered, mouth dry. The words tumbled out:
I want to move out.
The silence was deafening. Veronicas face cycled through shades of redpink, scarlet, puce.
Move out? You? she finally spluttered. Youd be lost without me! The worlds cruel, men are all lying
Mum, other people manage
One more word about leaving, Veronica hissed, and Ill lock you in this flat. Permanently. Understood?
Tears streamed down Emilys face. Why? she whispered. Why do this to me?
Veronica leaned back, face twisted with something like triumph.
No reason. I had you for myself, didnt I? Not so you could wander off.
The words hit Emily like ice water. For herself. Not out of love. Like a possession. A pet.
Veronica sniffed and left without another word.
The next two days, Emily played the perfect daughter. No arguments. Veronica thawed, smug.
But Emily had made her choice. Before her next shift, she stuffed her passport and secretly saved cash£300 squirrelled under her mattressinto her bag.
After her shift, she didnt go home. She knocked on the managers office.
Mr. Thompson, she said, hands shaking, I need to quit. Today. Please.
He frowned. Everything alright?
She spilled itthe control, the suffocation.
Tell you what, he said. Weve a branch across town. Same pay. Your mum wont find you there.
Grateful, she accepted. A room in a shared house£500 a month, basic but hers. At the bus stop, she snapped her SIM card. Tomorrow, a new number.
A week later, her tiny room with peeling wallpaper felt like a palace. She could breathe.
Sometimes her fingers itched to text Mum. Old habits died hard. But she resisted. One call, and Veronica would drag her back.
It was terrifying. Loneliness crept in. But then she remembered: I had you for myself. And she knewshed done the right thing.
That flat hadnt been living. It was fading.
Now? However hard, this was her life. Finally.
