BREAKDOWN

“Hey, get up.”

That’s how Tracie woke me the next morning. It was earlier than usual. On weekdays, she usually didn’t wake me up until after she got dressed. But she stood by my bed, wrapped in a bath towel, her hair dripping wet. I could smell her shampoo.

“Come on,” she said.

It was hard for me to get up. I had slept poorly. Regrets and fears had been running through my head most of the night. Rubbing my eyes, I said, “Don’t you need to get ready for school?”

“That’s why you need to get up now. We’ll have time. Let’s go. We’re making another video.”

I groaned. “Please, Tracie, not like the kitchen one.”

She combed her fingers through her wet hair and said, “Kinda, but not really. I just came up with another idea I want to do. Get up and come to the bathroom.”

I did not want to get out of bed. I did not want to do another video. But I did not dare defy my stepdaughter.

The one bathroom in our little rented house has two doors: one to the hallway and one to my bedroom. I followed Tracie the few steps from my bed to the bathroom, which was warm and humid from the shower she had just taken.

She tossed her towel aside, leaving her stark naked in front of me. She reached into the shower and turned the water back on.

I forced myself to say nothing.

Tracie flushed the toilet for some reason. I saw that the water swirling down was full of suds and blue water. From the bottle of cleaner and the wet toilet brush on the floor, I figured she had just cleaned it out. That was something she would make me do while she was at school. What was going on?

Tracie checked Pendik travesti the shower temperature, then looked me up and down. I was in a loose t-shirt and panties, my typical sleepwear.

She leaned past me to grab her phone from the sink counter. The sight of my daughter stretching her athletic, nude body next to me woke me up quick. I swallowed nervously.

Tracie tapped at her phone and said, “So, in this video, I’m going to be taking a shower, and you’re going to come in and open the shower door, and grab me by the hair.”

My stomach sank. I started to tremble.

“And then,” she went on, “you’re going to call me a slut and pull me out of the shower. And you’re going to say, ‘If you want to act like a slut, then you can drink like a slut.’ And you’re going to pull me down by the hair and make me drink out of the toilet.”

“No,” I said, feeling weak and cold. “Honey, I can’t. I can’t do this again.”

“I’m not asking you if you want to.”

I covered my face with both hands. My legs lost all strength. I dropped to my knees onto a bathroom floor mat, my heart pounding. I cried into my hands, “Please, Tracie.”

“Oh my god, Mom, stop being so dramatic.”

The room went out of focus and started turning around me. I felt like I would throw up.

I reached out desperately and grabbed onto my stepdaughter’s leg, clinging to it. “Sweetheart, please, I know I deserve it. You deserve to blackmail me. But I’m begging you, please don’t make me hurt you.” I sobbed into the firm flesh of my daughter’s leg.

“It’s fake, Mom, you’re not really- Oh my gosh, Mom, are you okay?”

My Pendik travestileri whole body was shivering violently. I whimpered through tears, “Don’t make me hurt you, Tracie. Anything but that. Please.”

I collapsed fully to the ground, my face down, covering my head with my hands, like a turtle hiding in its shell. I heaved the heaviest sobs I ever had.

“Mom, oh my god. What’s happening?” Tracie knelt down next to me and put her hand on my back. “Mom, it’s okay. Try to breathe, okay? Relax.” There was real concern in her voice.

After a minute, I was able to stop sobbing so hard. I took the tissues my stepdaughter handed me to wipe my face and blow my nose.

She said, “Mom? That scared me. Are you alright?”

I was still shaky and weak, but my breathing and my heart started calming down. “That’s never happened to me before,” I said.

Tracie stroked my arm. “Was that like a panic attack?”

Her touch comforted me. “I don’t know. Maybe.” As my vision cleared, my girl’s caring, pretty face came into focus.

She stood to quickly turn off the shower, then returned to kneel next to me. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I really didn’t mean to be that hard on you.”

I shook my head. I took a deep breath and blew it out. I said, “It’s not you, Tracie.”

“I mean, of course it’s me. I’m making you do these things. But I didn’t mean for you to get this upset.”

“No. I mean, yeah, that’s part of it. But it’s also something I never told you about.” I looked at my daughter kneeling on the floor with me. She was still naked.

I said, “Yesterday, with the spitting and the slapping, Travesti pendik and now this – it’s dredging up some terrible stuff in me, honey. Stuff my mother used to do to me.”

Tracie gasped. “Oh no. Mom, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not your fault, baby. I mean, you didn’t know.”

Her beautiful eyes glistened with compassion. “What did she do to you?”

I shook my head. “Bad, mean things. This-” I gestured to the shower, the toilet – “this just brought up too much.”

Tracie kindly caressed my shoulder.

Another wave of sadness filled me. “She was a mean old drunk, and now I’m the same thing to you.” I bent to the floor again, crying out my deepest regret. Between sobs I said, “I ran away from her, and now you’re going to run away from me. And I deserve it.”

“I’m not running away, Mom. You’ve been doing good, and I’m not giving up on you.”

My stepdaughter’s love and my gratitude for her left me speechless and weeping.

Tracie quietly listened to me cry for some time. Then, gently, she said, “Listen, Mom. It’ll be okay. Please don’t worry. But I need to get dressed and ready for school.”

I nodded, my face covered, but I couldn’t speak.

Tracie said. “When you’re ready, start with thirty minutes on the treadmill for today, okay? I’ll text you your tasks. I’ll think about all this. And I’ll see you after school, okay?”

I just nodded again, snuffling a cry.

“We’re not giving up, Mom. Alright? Please just take it easy.”

I managed to look at my daughter and say tearfully, “You’re everything to me, Tracie.” A fresh round of hot tears spilled down my cheeks.

I covered my face and cried more. I felt my girl’s hand on my shoulder. Her voice was as kind as an angel’s. She said, “Will you be okay? Should I stay?”

“You go to school,” I choked. “I just need to cry, honey. I’ll be alright.”

Before leaving, she gave me a sweet kiss on my head.