I just don’t know what to do anymore. She’s older now; I can’t protect her. I don’t want her to stop living her life and I want her to be happy, but I don’t want her to repeat my mistakes. I know how dangerous this city gets, especially at night. What happened that night will haunt me forever. She’s still so young and naïve, she wouldn’t understand. No, just protect her, and keep her in the dark.
“Mom!” Clemence screamed.
“What?” I answered, clearly spaced out. I really need to get it together.
“I have been calling your name for the past ten minutes! I just want to let you know that I’m going to get the milk you wanted,” she answered, exasperated.
“Okay, sure, that’s fine.”
I don’t know what I would do if what happened to me happened to her. I was destroyed, bits of me scattered everywhere, and I didn’t have the strength to find them. What if she gets jumped when she’s out buying the milk? What if when she’s walking home from school, someone throws her down and violates her? I wish I could be with her every step of the way but I can’t. And I won’t.
Wait a second. Why did she need to wear her brand-new $600 shoes if she was going to get milk? Wow, I am such an idiot. She’s going out to a party. I snatched the phone angrily and dialed in her number. Ring ring ring, ring ring ring.
“Hello?” she asked, as if she didn’t know it was me.
“Where are you?!” I yelled, seething. She doesn’t seem to realize how dangerous it is, how worried I would’ve been.
“…I just went out to get the milk you forgot to buy and I need my cereal for tomorrow.”
“I’m sure your Prada shoes were necessary for that trip down four blocks? If you don’t get here soon you can forget about any plans next weekend.”
“I’ll be home in five minutes.”
I could hear what she was thinking. Ugh, my mom is so lame, she won’t even let me be out with my friends.
But she doesn’t understand. It’s all for her, to protect her. It’s all for her.