**»I Had You for Myself»**
*»And where exactly do you think you’re going?»* Veronica Bishops voice was thick with disapproval.
Emily sighed heavily as she zipped up her bag. That familiar tonesharp, accusatorymade her stomach twist.
*»Work, Mum,»* she replied, forcing calm into her voice.
*»What work?!»* Veronicas pitch jumped an octave. *»Your schedules clear today! I remember! Where are you really off to, eh? Out with some lad?»*
Emily turned. Her mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed like a stern headmistress.
*»They asked me to cover a shift at the shop. Extra cash never hurts,»* Emily explained.
*»Dont lie to me!»* Veronica snapped, stepping closer. *»I know your tricks! Off gallivanting while Ive given up my whole life for you! Ungrateful girl!»*
Her face flushed scarlet, anger radiating.
Emily met her gaze. The exhaustion in her eyesyears of itmade Veronica pause, just for a second.
*»Come with me, if you dont believe it,»* Emily murmured, and without waiting, she walked out.
Behind her, Veronicas shouts blurred into noise.
On the way to work, Emilys thoughts spun like a hamster in a wheel. *Twenty-four years old.* Yet she lived like a childcurfews, interrogations, no freedom. Other girls her age had flats, careers, boyfriends. *She* hadnt even made it to uni.
The memory stung. Shed aced her A-levels, got into a teaching programbut then Mum had erupted.
*»What dyou need uni for? Prancing about like those flighty students! And wholl look after *me*?»*
So Emily surrendered. Like always.
Mum got her a job at the corner shop. *Five minutes walk. So I know where you are.*
And she checked. Often. Popping in for milk or breadreally just to ensure Emily hadnt dared escape.
It started younger, though. School and straight home, timed to the minute. Two minutes late? An inquisition: *Who were you with? What were you doing?* A classmates birthday party? Tears, lectures, refusal.
*»God knows what goes on at those parties.»*
Emily pushed open the shop door. The bell jingled; the bakery section smelled of warm pastries. She changed into her uniform and stepped out.
Somehow, shed accepted it. Day after year. Now, restocking shelves, she eavesdropped on coworkersMegan and Sophiegiggling about weekend plans.
*»Saturday, that new café! Then the late film!»*
*»Perfect! Sunday, if its nice, well stroll Hyde Park!»*
Emily looked away. Her weekends? Mum. Telly. The same four walls.
Two days later, over porridge, rebellion hardened into resolve.
Veronica slammed her palm on the table. Emily flinched; her spoon clattered.
*»Whats that face for? Spit it out!»*
Emilys pulse raced. The words burst free:
*»I want to move out.»*
Silence. Then Veronicas face turned tomato-red.
*»You? Live alone? Dont be daft! The worlds cruelmen are wolves! Youll *die* without me!»*
*»Mum, others manage»*
*»One more word,»* Veronica hissed, *»and Ill lock you in this flat. Permanently. Understood?»*
Tears spilled down Emilys cheeks.
*»Why? What did I do?»*
Veronica leaned back, almost smug.
*»Nothing. I had you *for me*, not so you could wander off.»*
The words hit like ice water. *For her.* A possession. A pet.
With a scoff, Veronica left.
Emily played obedient the next two days. Mum thawed, even praised her cooking.
But secretly, she packed her passport and the £200 shed hidden under her mattress.
After her shift, she didnt go home. She knocked on the managers office.
*»Mr. HarrisI need to quit. Today. Please.»*
He frowned. *»Whats happened?»*
She told himbrieflyabout the prison of home.
*»Weve a branch across London,»* he offered. *»Same pay. Harder for her to track you.»*
Grateful, she accepted. Signed the contract. Found a tiny flat£400 a month, peeling wallpaper and all.
At the bus stop, she snapped her SIM card in half. Tomorrow, shed get a new number.
A week later, in her shoebox room, she breathed. Woke when she wanted. Ate cereal for dinner. No one watching.
Sometimes, her fingers hovered over the phone. Old habits. But she stopped herself. Call Mum, and the chains would snap back.
It was terrifying. Lonely. Doubt crept in.
Then shed remember: *»I had you for me.»*
And she knewshed done the right thing.
This wasnt living. It was suffocating.
Now, at least, she had a chance. To live *for herself*.
However hard it was.
