Episode 5

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POV – Rose

I can’t believe my eyes as I laugh and cry—laugh. I looked bad. I went and stood in front of the mirror. I was still in my gown, and my hair was really messy. I could not recognize the woman staring back at me. I had a sad giggle as I remembered what my own daughter said to me.

Tears ran down so freely. This is how I’m being treated after everything I have done for my family? But still I’m the villain, my own daughter hates my guts.

I wiped away my tears. I literally was walking up to her room. I need to do her laundry. As I opened her door, forgetting to knock, she quickly put her phone away.

“Geez Mom!” she screamed.

“Honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think about it. I apologize.”

“Maybe you should start thinking,” she said, rolling her eyes.

“Annabel, I think I have had enough of your rubbish on this poor planet. And don’t—you dare roll your eyes at me and think before you speak to me. I’m still your mother,” I said.

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“Mom, what do you want?” she said, ignoring what I just said.

I took a deep breath. “I need you to do your laundry,” I said.

She gave me the look. “Really, Mom?”

“What?” I said, pausing

She said, “Be quick, okay? So that I can get this over with.”

I went over to carry her clothes, but I was done. I was about to leave when I decided to voice out my concern.

“Who were you on the phone with?” I asked.

“Mom, not your business,” she said.

And that was it. I saw red. I dropped the clothes on the ground.

“You know what your problem is? You have too much liberty. It is my business because you are my daughter and living under my roof, and you are not feeding yourself nor paying your fees. And that phone? We got it for you, for God’s sake. You are just 16 now. I’ll ask again: who was that?” I said angrily.

“Mom, you know you are so controlling and want everything to go your way. I was on the phone with Becky,” she said, annoyed.

“Controlling? Let me see the phone.” I stretched out my hand to take the phone.

“Mom, no. I’m not giving you my phone. That’s why Dad hates your guts. Geez,” she said as she stood up, holding her phone in a possessive manner.

“Your dad hates my guts? Really?” I laughed, then looked at the brat—I call my daughter. “You know, until then, I would like to see this becky someday,” I said as I carried the laundry basket and left her room.

As I walked down the stairs, I was so heartbroken. She supports the way her dad behaves around me. I am nothing to them, but they are my family. I said as a bitter smile spread through my lips knowing that one day will come and they will appreciate me.

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