“ are you okay with me staying the night? “ from the prompt list 😊
So I'm not gonna lie, this one completely got away from me haha
Usually, when I'm writing prompts, I don't have a solid plan and I just start writing and see what happens and, well, this happened.
It's long and heavy with some angst thrown in for good measure.
Thank you for sending this prompt, I think I liked what I wrote, and honestly wouldn't be opposed to a part 2.
Trigger warnings: abuse, alcoholism
Hurt/Comfort list
Read on AO3
“Are… are you sure you’re okay with me staying the night?” Beca asked, looking up as Chloe entered the room. “It’ll just be for one night, I promise. My Mom should have cooled off by tomorrow.”
“Bec, you can stay as long as you want,” Chloe said, sitting beside her on the edge of the bed. “You know that. You know you’re always welcome here.”
Beca swallowed and nodded, but didn’t trust her voice not to break when she spoke, so she didn’t say anything else.
Chloe placed her hand on Beca’s arm and gave it a soft squeeze, frowning when Beca winced at the contact.
“Beca-”
“It’s nothing,” Beca said, quickly, pulling her arm away.
“Beca. Did… did something happen?” Chloe asked, reaching out for Beca’s hand again.
“N-no,” Beca said, standing, moving away from the bed. “It was my fault. I… this was a mistake, I should go home.”
“No,” Chloe said, also standing. “Please don’t go. I don’t want you to go back there.”
“She didn’t do anything,” Beca said, hesitating as she stood by the door. “It was my fault.”
“Okay,” Chloe said. “Okay. But… it doesn’t matter whose fault it is, if you’re hurt, then we need to do something about it.”
“I’m fine,” Beca said. “It’s fine.”
“I could get my Mom to take a look? You know, ‘cause she’s a doctor?”
Beca nodded, blinking back tears.
“Okay,” Chloe said. “I’ll, um, I’ll go speak to her. It’s gonna be okay, Bec. Please… please don’t leave?”
“I won’t,” Beca said, sniffing, and then laughing. “I…” Beca swallowed. “I don’t have anywhere else to go.”
Chloe pulled her into a hug. “Come on.”
Helen Beale was sitting at the kitchen table, working on her laptop with a mug of tea when Chloe approached her.
“Mom?”
She looked up from her laptop to her seventeen-year-old daughter, and then looked past her to her daughter’s best friend.
Beca had spent more time at her house than she could count, but she always looked apologetic for being there. Like she was scared of intruding. She was always trying to make herself seem smaller. As if she could disappear if she tried hard enough.
“You girls okay?” Helen asked.
“Um, Beca’s… she hurt her arm. Can you take a look at it?”
“Of course,” Helen said. “Beca, come take a seat. Chloe, you know where I keep the first aid kit?” Chloe nodded and went to get it. “Let’s see it.”
Beca rolled up her sleeve.
Helen swallowed, and let out a slow breath.
“Pretty nasty burn, kid,” Helen said. “Looks like it hurts.”
“Yeah,” Beca said.
She heard a soft gasp from behind her, and then felt Chloe’s hand on her back.
Beca felt her cheeks burn. She wished she could get smaller. She wished she could disappear.
“Okay Beca, let’s get this cleaned up,” Helen said, taking the first aid kit from Chloe. She took out a pair of gloves and an antiseptic wipe. “This is gonna sting a little.”
“How did it happen?” Chloe asked, trying not to look at the angry red burn on Beca’s arm.
“It was - ow! It was an accident,” Beca said, wincing.
Chloe’s eyes flicked to her Mom. “What kind of accident?”
Beca didn’t answer and sucked in a sharp breath as Helen began applying burn cream to the area. Her eyes filled with tears and she hated herself for it.
“You don’t have to tell us,” Helen said. “But it looks like a scald mark. Like you got burned by hot liquid. And if that’s what happened, then the liquid probably splashed you in other places too. Do you have any other burns, Beca?” Beca shook her head. “Okay. Then I’ll just put a bandage on this for now, and we can take another look at it tomorrow. We don’t want it to get infected.”
“Thank you,” Beca said, her voice close to a whisper. She sniffed. “I was just trying to make her some tea.”
Helen paused briefly, shifting slightly closer so she could hear better before she continued to wrap her arm.
“She, um, she gets these headaches? And I…” Beca cleared her throat. “I didn't want her to…she promised she wasn’t going to drink anymore. But when she doesn’t drink she gets… sick. She gets headaches. And then she drinks to get rid of them. And I thought… I was just trying to help her.”
Beca wiped her eyes.
“What did she do?” Chloe asked, tears in her own eyes.
“She… she just pushed the cup back towards me. Told me to get her a real drink. But the water it… splashed out. It had just boiled,” Beca said. If she’d been looking at Helen, she’d have seen the muscle in her jaw tense. “She didn’t mean to.”
Chloe looked at her Mom and saw a flicker of anger in her eyes.
“What happened next?” Helen asked, her voice still calm.
Beca shrugged. “She yelled at me for breaking the cup. I should have just… I should have left her alone. It’s my fault, I know what she’s like when she needs a drink. I should have kept out of her way.”
“Beca, sweetheart, this wasn’t your fault,” Helen said.
“My Mom’s sick, she didn’t mean it,” Beca said.
“It doesn’t matter if she’s sick, it doesn’t matter if she meant it, she hurt you. And you’ll hate me for saying it, but you’re still a child. There’s no excuse for hurting a child. You shouldn’t be in a situation where you’re getting hurt by the person who’s supposed to protect you,” Helen said, her hand resting on Beca’s.
“I don’t want her to get in trouble,” Beca said, slightly panicked now. “You… you can’t tell anyone.”
“Why are you protecting her?” Chloe asked.
“Because she’s my Mom,” Beca replied. “She loves me.”
“She’s got a funny way of showing it.”
“Chloe,” Helen said, her voice like a warning.
“She loves me,” Beca said again, this time she looked up at Helen. “Right?”
“I’m sure she does,” Helen said, picking her words carefully. “But love isn’t an excuse to treat someone poorly. Especially when that person is your child. I know you want to protect her, but she should be protecting you.”
Beca ran a hand through her hair and then tried to rub away the headache forming.
“Has this happened before, Beca? Has there been other accidents?” Helen asked.
Beca swallowed and clenched her jaw, but she didn’t confirm or deny it.
“Thank you for letting me stay tonight, and for looking at my arm,” Beca said after the silence had stretched on a little too long. “I’m pretty tired, I’m gonna go to bed if that’s okay?”
Helen sighed. “Of course it is. You know where I am if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Beca said, standing. “Night.”
Beca headed up the stairs, her shoulders slumped.
When she got into Chloe’s room she pulled off her shirt, feeling hot and claustrophobic. She rummaged around in her bag for her pyjama top when the bedroom door was pushed open.
“Oh, crap, sorry Beca,” Chloe said. She turned away quickly, but not before she got sight of Beca’s stark pale skin, marred by a sickly yellowing bruise. “I should have knocked.”
“It’s fine,” Beca said, pulling her top on quickly. “It’s your room, you don’t usually knock to go into your own room.”
“Still, I just watched you walk in, I should have knocked,” Chloe said, turning around again. Beca still had her back to her. “Bec, you have a bruise on your back.”
“Yeah,” Beca said.
Chloe swallowed and tears filled her eyes. “Beca.”
“It’s nothing,” she said. “I just fell.”
Chloe’s jaw clenched. “You fell?”
“Chloe, please, I don’t wanna do this now,” Beca said. “I’m tired.”
“So… So when do we talk about it? The next time? The time after?”
“Chloe.”
“No, it’s fine, you don’t want to talk now. So we’ll go to sleep, and then tomorrow you’ll go back home, and then when your Mom hurts you again you’ll come back here and-”
“Stop it! Stop… you’re acting like my Mom is some kind of monster. Like she’s some… abuser! She just made a couple of mistakes,” Beca said, finally turning to look at Chloe. Chloe had to step back because she’d never seen Beca look at her like that. She’d never seen her with such pain in her eyes. It knocked the air out of her. “She… She made a mistake.”
“She’s… she made a lot of mistakes lately, Bec. And whenever she makes one, you get hurt,” Chloe said, taking a tentative step forward. “You don’t have to live like that.”
“I don’t have a choice,” Beca replied, wiping the tears from her eyes in frustration. “You don’t understand, it’s easy for you with your nice, kind, parents, in your nice stable home. She’s all I have.”
“You have me,” Chloe said, her voice breaking.
Beca shook her head. “You’re my favourite person in the world, Chloe. My best friend. But it isn’t the same.”
Chloe swallowed. “You could just… Just move in here. Your Mom can go to rehab and-”
“No,” Beca said. Her voice was almost a whisper, but it was enough to cut Chloe off. “No. She’s… She won’t do that. She can’t afford that.” Beca wiped her eyes again and sat down on the bed. She was so tired.
“How long do you think you can keep doing this?” Chloe said, sitting beside her. “What happens when she goes too far and really hurts you?”
Beca sighed and rubbed her forehead again. “I can’t keep having the same conversation,” she said. “I’m really grateful that you let me stay, and that your Mom patched me up, but you need to just leave this alone.”
“Fine,” Chloe said, a bubble of frustration rising up in her. “Then I guess we can revisit this in a month when she has another ‘accident’ and you turn up at my door again.”
She regretted it as soon as she said it, but she couldn’t take it back.
Beca didn’t say anything, she just grabbed her shoes and pulled them on.
“Beca, I’m sorry.”
Beca picked up her bag and jacket and left the room without another word.
Helen heard the thumping of boots down the stairs, and by the time she came to investigate, Beca was shutting the front door behind her.
She found Chloe in her room, sobbing.
“What happened?”
“I pushed her too hard,” Chloe said, letting her Mom pull her into a hug as she cried into her shoulder.
-
Beca opened her front door and walked into the house as quietly as she could.
She hoped her Mom had gone to bed already, but no sooner had she put her foot on the bottom stair, did she hear her calling her from the living room.
“Beca, honey, is that you?”
“Yeah,” Beca said, feeling her shoulders sink slightly. “Yeah Mom, I’m home.”
She dropped her bag at the door and went into the living room.
April Mitchell was on the floor, her back against the sofa, a half-empty bottle of gin beside her.
“I thought you were stopping at Chloe’s tonight?” April asked, the tiniest hint of a slur in her voice. “You left in a big hurry, I assumed that’s where you were going.”
Beca looked at the coffee table and saw a collection of empty beer bottles that weren’t there when she left a few hours ago.
“Yeah I was going to, but I changed my mind,” Beca said. “I wanted to come home. How many have you had, Mom?”
“Oh, just a couple,” she said. “I know, you don’t like it, but I’m not drunk. I just had such a bad head, I just needed to take the edge off a bit.”
Beca nodded because she was too tired for a fight. “Why are you on the floor?”
April blinked a few times, and then looked around her. She started laughing. “I didn’t even notice.”
Beca let out a tired laugh. “Let me help you up,” she said. She held out her arms for April to take, and she gripped her forearms. Her fingers dug into the burn on her arm, and Beca had to bite her tongue so she didn’t cry out.
She helped her stand and sat her on the sofa before she took a seat beside her.
“Why are you wearing this?” April asked, fiddling with the sleeve of Beca’s pyjama top. “Isn’t this the pyjama top I got you for Christmas? Look, it has a cartoon dog wearing an eye mask on it.”
“I know,” Beca said, smiling as she looked down at it. “I… It doesn’t matter.”
“Did you and Chloe have a fight?” April asked, sitting back on the sofa.
“Kinda.”
“You wanna tell me about it?”
Beca shook her head, tears building in her eyes again.
“Oh, baby girl,” she said, pulling Beca into her side. “Come here.”
She tugged her arm until Beca was lying with her head in her lap, and she ran her fingers through her hair.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure you’ll work it out,” she said.
Beca nodded and closed her eyes as April continued the soothing motion.
She wished Chloe could see this side of her Mom. This side that was so loving and gentle. The side that would never - could never - hurt Beca. Once the sickness of soberness had gone, but before the mellowed tipsiness turned into bitter drunkenness, Beca’s Mom was the best. At least in Beca’s eyes, she was the best.
“What’s this?” April asked, lightly touching the bandage on her arm that she hadn’t noticed before.
“Nothing,” Beca said, quickly, her eyes snapping open.
She sat up a little too quickly, and April’s eyebrows pulled together.
“What happened?”
“It’s nothing, Mom, it’s fine,” Beca said, standing now. “I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Beca, tell me what happened.”
“It was an accident,” Beca said, her shoulders slumping in defeat again. She was tired of telling this story. “I just… Remember when I made you tea this afternoon? But you, um, you didn’t want it and the cup got broken?”
April shook her head slightly like she was trying to clear away some fog. “Yeah,” she said, her eyebrows furrowed. “Did you cut yourself on the cup?”
“N-no,” Beca said. “I just… I got splashed by the water. But it’s fine. Chloe’s Mom fixed me up, it doesn’t even really hurt anymore.”
“Baby, I’m sorry, I didn’t know you got hurt.”
“It’s fine, Mom. It was an accident. I’m fine.”
April frowned and looked at her, and suddenly she saw her daughter’s future stretching out in front of her, and she knew what it would be like.
She saw her moving from partner to partner, each one treating her worse than the last. She saw her forgiving their abuse. Lying to protect them. Covering up and explaining away injuries. She saw her suffering, and miserable, all because she thought that was what love was. That that was what love was meant to be like.
And she’d learned it all from her.
April had always seen herself as two different people. There was Good April, and there was Bad April. And the only way she knew how to survive was if she pretended that Good April had no idea what Bad April had done.
Bad April was the drunk one, or the sick one. Bad April had the vicious hangovers and the aching withdrawal. Bad April would snap, shout, push. Bad April was cruel. Bad April was the one who hurt Beca. She’d done it. Good April didn’t. Good April couldn’t. Good April didn’t know anything about it.
“Mom, are you okay? I’m sorry I told Chloe’s Mom about it, I wasn’t going to, but Chloe found out and made me see her Mom and-”
“Beca, what are you doing?”
Beca frowned. “What do you mean?”
“Look at your arm. I did that. I did that to you, why are you… why are you justifying it? Why are you apologising for getting it treated?”
“I… I didn’t want you to be upset, or mad. I know you didn’t mean to do it.”
April swallowed.
She had to save her daughter from Bad April. She had to save her from a future of misery and abuse.
“Why did you and Chloe fight?”
“It doesn’t matter,” Beca said. “Why do we have to do this?”
April slammed her fist against the coffee table and hated herself when she saw Beca flinch.
“Tell me.”
“Mom, please-”
“Tell me!”
“She thinks you’re abusive!” Beca said, tears running down her cheeks now. “She thinks you’re an alcoholic and a bad Mom. And she thinks you’re going to really hurt me one day.”
April tried not to let the pain show on her face.
“But, she’s wrong,” Beca said. “She doesn’t know you, she doesn’t know what you’re really like. You love me, you don’t mean to hurt me.”
April closed her eyes, and tears fell quickly.
When she opened them, she saw Beca as a little girl. It was back when her dad was still around. Back before April had started drinking. Beca had tripped and grazed her knee, and she’d looked up at her with those big eyes. She’d asked her to make it better. To stop the pain.
It was the same look she was wearing now. She was hurting, and she wanted her Mom to make it better.
“Chloe’s right,” April said, wiping her eyes, and pushing the emotion out of her voice. “I am an alcoholic. I am a bad Mom.”
Beca shook her head. “You aren’t. You just… You’re sick, right? Alcoholism is a disease. It’s not your fault.”
“Who’s fault is it, Beca?”
“I… I don’t…”
“I could have gotten treatment. I could have given up. I could have asked for help a thousand times. The first time I hurt you, I should have thrown away every drop of liquor in the house. But I didn’t. I kept drinking. Because I like it, Beca. I like the way it makes me feel. And I have chosen that over your safety, and that makes me a bad Mom,” April said.
“Mom, stop it,” Beca said. “I don’t wanna do this. We… Everything was good, we were… normal. Things felt normal, why do we have to do this?”
“Things are good now, but what happens when I carry on drinking and get mean? Or when I sober up and I get those headaches? When I get sick and angry? What happens then, Beca?”
Beca didn’t answer. She didn’t have an answer.
“What do I have to do to you to get you to realise what kind of person I am?”
“Why do you want me to hate you?” Beca asked, her voice breaking.
“Because I need to save you.”
“From what?”
“From turning into me! From having my life!” She slammed her fist against the table again. “God, Beca, if you don’t get away from me, you aren’t going to make it. And I cannot have the only good thing in my life get destroyed.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying you need to get the fuck away from me,” April said. She picked up a bottle and threw it against the wall. The glass exploded, and Beca jumped again. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me, the only good thing I have, and I will destroy you if you don’t leave.”
“Mom, I’m not leav-”
April threw another bottle, and this one exploded a little closer to Beca.
“Mom, stop!”
She threw another, and Beca had to dodge out of its way.
“One day, when you’re happy and you have a family and a nice house, you’re going to thank me for this,” April said, her hand closing around the final bottle.
“Please,” Beca said, eyeing the bottle, stepping backwards and away from her Mom. “Please don’t.”
April swallowed. “I don’t want you here anymore, Beca.” She looked at the person she loved more than anything in the world, the person she would give her life for if she could, and she threw the bottle toward her.
Beca turned, and the bottle just missed her head. It smashed against the wall, and the glass flew back in Beca’s direction. She felt it slicing the skin on her cheek and forehead, as if it was all happening in slow motion.
She opened her eyes and reached up to touch her face. Her fingertips came back bloody.
She looked at her Mom, who was standing now, her hands over her mouth.
April took a step towards her, and Beca took a step back, shaking her head, her eyes wide with fear.
“Beca-”
Beca turned and ran out of the room. She grabbed her bag from the doorway and ran out of the house.
Back towards the one place she knew she’d be safe.
-
Chloe was jolted awake by the sound of frantic knocking on the front door.
She knew only one person would be knocking like that at this time of night.
She jumped out of bed and was running downstairs before her parents had even left their room.
When she opened the door, she wasn’t surprised to see Beca standing there, her arms wrapped around herself, tears flowing freely down her face.
“I’m sorry,” Beca said, her voice broken. “You were right.”
Her breathing seemed shallow, and Chloe wondered if she’d run the entire way.
Then Chloe noticed it wasn’t just tears running down Beca’s face.
“Oh my god, Beca, you’re bleeding!”
“Yeah,” Beca said, weakly. “Yeah, I am.”
She seemed to sway for a second before her knees buckled. Chloe shot forward and managed to catch her just before she hit the ground.
“Mom!”
Helen, who was already making her way down the stairs, quickened her pace and was soon outside. She found herself looking at her daughter sitting on the ground, cradling Beca in her arms. She was crying and pressing her lips against her head.
Beca’s eyes were closed, and there was blood running from several cuts on her face.
“Beca, honey, can you hear me?” Helen asked, hurrying towards them, kneeling down beside them.
Beca groaned, her eyebrows pulling together as her eyes blinked open.
“Sorry,” she said, as she became aware of her surroundings. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Helen said, “Don’t be sorry. Chloe, can you help her stand? We need to get her inside.”
They each took an arm and then they helped Beca onto her feet and into the house.
“Shouldn’t we take her to the hospital?” Chloe asked.
“No,” Beca said. “Please.”
“Bec, you’re bleeding. You just… You passed out on my driveway,” Chloe said.
“I’ll look you over,” Helen said, as they sat Beca on the sofa. “And if I say we need to go to the hospital, then we go. But I know you’re tired. I know you’re scared. So if we don’t need to go, then we won’t, okay?”
Beca nodded. “Thank you.”
“Okay,” Helen said, she grabbed her medical bag from the hall, and then sat on the coffee table opposite Beca. Chloe sat beside Beca and picked up her hand. “Did you hit your head when you fell?”
“No,” Beca said. “I don’t think so.”
“She didn’t,” Chloe said. “I caught her.”
“Good,” Helen said. She grabbed her torch and shone it in Beca’s eyes. “Follow my finger.” She moved it from side to side, and Beca followed it with her eyes. “Good. Okay, let’s take care of these cuts. What happened?”
Beca swallowed. “She… She threw a bottle at me.”
Chloe’s hand tightened around hers, and Helen stopped what she was doing to look at Beca properly.
“She did what?” Helen asked.
“We were good,” Beca said, tears in her eyes again. “We were talking and laughing and then she noticed my arm, and she just… Something flipped.”
“She was angry at you?” Chloe asked. “Because she burnt your arm?”
“No, she was angry at herself. And she was angry at me for making excuses for her. She… She kept calling herself a bad Mom, and she said… She said she’d destroy me if I didn’t leave,” Beca said before she started crying fully. Her shoulders shaking. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“You can stay here,” Chloe said, pulling Beca into a hug. She looked at her Mom. “Right?”
“Of course,” Helen said. “Don’t worry Beca, we’ll take care of it.”
At this moment, Chloe’s Dad Andrew entered the room. He looked at Beca, covered in blood and sobbing in Chloe’s arms, and then he looked at his wife.
“Again?” He asked, sounding annoyed.
Beca felt something hard drop in her stomach.
She pulled away from Chloe and wiped her eyes quickly.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll go. I can go.”
He softened immediately. “No, not you kid. That wasn’t aimed at you.” He looked back at Helen. “She hurt her again? I told you if it happened again I was going to go round there.”
“We’ll both go,” Helen said. “Once I’ve patched Beca up, we’ll both go.”
“What are you going to do?” Beca asked, biting her lip. “Please, don’t hurt her.”
“We won’t,” Helen said. “I just want to speak to her. Let me finish cleaning you up.”
“Okay,” Beca said. “Thank you.”
Helen cleaned up the cuts made by the glass. She dressed the deepest one with some gauze and covered the rest with bandaids.
“You don’t need stitches,” she said, pulling off her gloves when she was done. “So I think we can avoid the hospital trip.”
“Thank you,” Beca said, leaning back into the sofa, her eyes already threatening to close.
“Chloe, take Beca up to bed. We’ll see you both in the morning,” Helen said.
“Okay Mom,” Chloe said, pulling Beca to her feet. “Night, love you.”
“Love you too.”
“Night Dr Beale,” Beca said. “Thanks again.” Chloe gave her arm a little tug, but Beca didn’t move. “You’re going to see my Mom?”
Helen looked towards her husband, who nodded. “Yes,” she said. “I think it’s time someone stepped in for you.”
Beca nodded. “Can… Can you tell her I love her?”
Helen closed her eyes, and when she opened them Beca saw tears. “Of course,” Helen said. “Go get some rest.”
Beca let Chloe take her out of the room this time, and as she passed him, Andrew Beale gave her a squeeze on the shoulder.
“Are you still mad at me?” Beca asked when they got to Chloe’s room.
“No,” Chloe said. “I was never mad at you. I was worried about you. I was terrified she would hurt you again. Are you still mad at me?”
Beca shook her head, changing into her pyjama bottoms. “You were right.”
“I didn’t want to be right,” Chloe said, softly. “I’m really sorry that I’m right.” She rummaged in a drawer and pulled out a clean t-shirt and handed it to Beca. “Your top is covered in blood, Bec.”
“Oh,” Beca said. She pulled off her pyjama top and put the t-shirt on. She held the top in her hands and looked down at it. The little cartoon dog was completely obscured by blood now, and the sob burst out of Beca before she could stop it.
“Hey, you’re okay,” Chloe said, pulling her into a hug. “Shh, you’re okay.”
“I want my Mom, Chloe. I want her to be my Mom again,” Beca cried.
“I know,” Chloe said, holding her tighter. “I know. Come on, come and lie down.”
Beca curled up in the bed, and Chloe got in beside her, wasting no time in pulling her into her arms.
“You’re okay,” Chloe murmured as Beca cried herself out. “I’ve got you.”
Once Beca had cried herself to sleep, Chloe finally let her own tears fall. She held Beca tighter and pressed a kiss to her forehead. She closed her eyes and counted her blessings. Beca was safe. Beca was here. Beca was alive.
She fell asleep as her head repeated those three things again and again.
-
“Bec,” Chloe said, softly, brushing the hair from Beca’s face. “My Mom made breakfast. She said she wants to speak to you.”
Beca let out a soft groan and her eyebrows furrowed.
“Come on,” Chloe said. “Wake up.”
Beca opened her eyes and immediately winced at the pain in her face. “Ow,” she mumbled.
“How are you feeling?” Chloe asked, eyeing Beca with concern.
“Sore,” Beca said, sitting up and running a hand through her hair. “Tired.”
“You need bacon and coffee,” Chloe said. “And my Mom has both downstairs. Come on.”
Beca couldn’t help but smile, and she followed Chloe down the stairs towards the kitchen.
“Morning girls,” Andrew said, glancing up from his newspaper. “Sleep okay?”
“Yeah,” Beca said. “Thank you, again, for everything.”
He shook his head. “You don’t need to thank us. Sit down.”
Beca did, and Chloe took a seat beside her.
Helen placed a plate of eggs, bacon, and toast in front of them both, along with two cups of coffee.
“Thank you,” Beca said. “Did you see my Mom last night?”
Helen glanced at Andrew, who sighed slightly. “We did. Eat first, we can talk after.”
Beca opened her mouth to say more, but closed it and swallowed. She wanted to know what would happen next, but she was also terrified of that answer.
A silence hung in the room once everyone had finished eating, and Chloe’s hand took Beca’s under the table, squeezing softly.
“So, we spoke to your Mom last night,” Helen said, glancing across at her husband.
“Is she okay?” Beca asked, looking between Helen and Andrew.
Andrew sighed and sat back in his chair. “Kid, she threw a glass bottle at your head last night, and you’re asking if she’s okay?”
“She’s going to go to rehab,” Helen said. “But she has a few… conditions before she’ll go.”
“I didn’t think she was in a position to set conditions,” Chloe muttered. “She’s lucky she hasn’t been arrested.”
Beca opened her mouth to defend her Mom, but the action caused a jolt of pain in her face.
And then she realised Chloe was right.
“What are her conditions?” Beca asked.
“Number 1, she wants you to see a therapist,” Helen said. “Which I actually think is a good idea.”
Beca didn’t like the sound of that, but if it would get her Mom into rehab, then she’d do it.
“What else?”
Helen looked at Andrew again, and Beca was surprised to see tears in her eyes.
“What?” Beca asked, looking between them. “What is it?”
“Her only other condition was that she goes completely no contact with you,” Helen said. “You’re over 16 so she has no,” Helen cleared her throat, “no legal obligation to take care of you anymore. And she… she doesn’t want you to see her, she doesn’t want you to speak to her. She doesn’t want any contact at all, for the foreseeable future.”
“What?” Chloe asked, her voice quiet but full of disbelief.
Beca swallowed, her jaw clenched, tears burning her eyes. “Did she say why?”
“No,” Helen said, softly.
Beca nodded. “This will get her to go to rehab?”
“That’s what she says.”
Beca wiped at her eyes. “Okay then. If that’s what she wants.”
“Beca, I’m so sorry it’s come to this,” Helen said. “But I think it’s for the best.”
Beca swallowed down the cry that threatened to spill out and nodded again. “How do we pay for it? The rehab, the therapy?”
“She’s going to sell your house,” Helen said, her voice still soft and reassuring, but now with a hint of a wobble in it.
Beca let out something between a laugh and a sob. “Perfect.” She said before she stood from the table and left the house.
Chloe found her sitting on the kerb at the end of the driveway.
“Hey,” she said, sitting beside her. “So, shitty day, huh?”
Beca laughed and nodded. “The worst few days of my life, so far,” Beca said.
“You’re gonna stay with us, you know? We’re not gonna let you be homeless,” Chloe said.
“I can’t ask you to do that,” Beca said.
“You aren’t,” Chloe said. “You aren’t asking for anything. I’m telling you, you’re staying with us. My parents are gonna drive your Mom to a rehab facility, and we’re gonna go and get your stuff while they’re gone. You can crash in my room for a few days, and my Dad said he’s gonna sort out his office so you can stay in there. He never uses it anyway, it’s just full of bowling trophies and clothes that don’t fit him anymore.”
Beca laughed, and let her head drop onto Chloe’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You don’t need to thank me,” Chloe said, her head resting on top of Beca’s. “We’ve got you, okay? You aren’t alone in this.”
“Do you think my Mom hates me?” Beca asked after a while.
“No,” Chloe said, softly. “I don’t think she hates you. I think… I think this is her way of trying to protect you. I think she wants you to hate her because that way you’ll be safe from her.”
“I don’t want to hate her,” Beca said.
“I know,” Chloe replied.
“I hate this.”
“I know,” Chloe repeated. “I know you do. I’m… I’m so sorry Beca.”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to do this.”
“You let me help,” Chloe said. “Let me help you through it. I’m not going anywhere, I promise.” Beca started crying again, and Chloe’s arm wrapped around her. “Shh, you’re okay,” she said, softly. “You’re okay.”
