And where exactly do you think youre going? Veronicas voice dripped with disapproval.
Emily sighed heavily as she zipped up her bag. That familiar tone from her mother made her insides twistanother interrogation was brewing.
To work, Mum, she replied, forcing calm into her voice.
What work?! Veronicas pitch jumped an octave. Youre not on the rota today! I remember! Where are you really off to, then? Come on, out with it!
Emily turned to face her. Veronica stood in the doorway, arms crossed like a bouncer at a pub.
They asked me to cover a shift at the shop. Extra cash never hurts, Emily explained evenly.
Dont lie to me! Her mother took a step forward. I know what youre up to! Off gallivanting with some lad, are you? Ungrateful! I raised you, gave you everything, and this is how you repay me?
Veronica was in full swing now, her face flushing beetroot.
Emily met her mothers gaze. The exhaustion in her eyesthe years of pent-up frustrationmade Veronica pause, just for a second.
You can come with me if you dont believe it, Emily said softly. Without waiting for an answer, she walked out.
Veronicas shouts followed her, but the words dissolved into the wind.
On the walk to work, Emilys thoughts darted like sparrows in a cage. Twenty-four years old. Twenty-four, and she was still treated like a child. It wasnt normal. Other women her age had flats, careers, boyfriends. Her? She hadnt even made it to uni.
The memory stung. Shed dreamed of studying education. Passed her A-levels, got the grades. Then Veronica had thrown a fit.
What do you need uni for? Prancing about like some fresher! And wholl look after me? shed screeched.
So Emily gave in. Like always.
Her mother got her the job at the corner shop. Five minutes walk. Close enough to monitor.
«Just so I know where you are,» Veronica had said.
And she checked. Regularly. Popping in under the guise of buying milk or bread, just to make sure her daughter hadnt dared escape.
It had started much earlier. Emily remembered being a teen. Home to school, school to hometimed to the minute. Two minutes late? A full inquisition: Where were you? Who with? Why? Wanting to hang out with friends after class? Scandal. A birthday party invitation? Hours of begging, tears, andinevitablya no.
«Who knows what goes on at those parties,» Veronica would snap.
Emily pushed open the shop door. The jingle of the bell, the smell of fresh pastries. She changed into her uniform in the back, then stepped onto the shop floor.
Somehow, shed accepted this life. Day after year. As she stocked shelves, she eavesdropped on her coworkersSophie and Lily, girls her age, chattering about weekend plans.
Theres that new café in town, Sophie was saying. And then the late showing at the cinema!
Perfect! Lily grinned. And if the weathers nice Sunday, we could walk along the river.
Emily turned away. Her weekend plans? Home. Mum. As always. Cleaning, cooking, telly under Veronicas watchful eye.
Two days later, over breakfast, the rebellion brewing inside her finally took shape.
Veronica slammed her hand on the table. Emily jerked, nearly dropping her spoon.
Whats that face for? Like youve lost a fiver and found a penny. Spit it out!
Emily looked up. Her heart hammered. The words tumbled out:
I want to move out.
Silence. Veronicas face turned pink, then red, then purple.
Move out? You? Have you lost the plot? she finally hissed. The worlds cruel, men are rats
Mum, other people manage
If you so much as mention leaving again, Veronicas voice dropped to a whisper, Ill lock you in this flat. Permanently. Understood?
Emily stared. Tears spilled freely.
Why? she whispered. Why do this to me?
Veronica leaned back. A smug, spiteful satisfaction flickered across her face.
No reason. I had you for me, didnt I? Not so you could wander off. Youll stay right here.
Emily froze. The words hit like ice water. For her. Not out of love. As a possession. Like a handbag or a pet.
Veronica snorted and left the table, leaving Emily to digest the cruelty.
For two days, Emily played the perfect daughter. No arguments. No disobedience. Veronica thawed, smug in her victory.
But Emily had already decided. Before her next shift, she stuffed her passport and the £200 shed squirrelled away under her mattress into her bag.
After work, she didnt go home. She knocked on the managers office.
David, her voice shook, I need to quit. Today. No notice. Please.
David frowned. Emily was reliable. Never late.
Whats happened?
She told him. The control. The suffocation.
Weve a branch across town, he offered. Same pay. Your mumd have a harder time tracking you there.
Grateful, Emily accepted, left with a new contract, and found a tiny bedsit. £400 a monthbarely more than a cupboard, but freedom.
At the bus stop, she snapped her SIM card in half. Shed get a new number tomorrow. No ties.
A week later, in her peeling-wallpapered room, Emily felt like royalty. She could wake when she wanted. Eat what she liked. Breathe.
Sometimes, her fingers itched for her phoneold habits die hard. But she resisted. One call, and Veronica would drag her back.
It was terrifying. Lonely. Doubt crept in. Then she remembered: «I had you for me.»
Shed made the only choice she could.
That flat wasnt a home. It was a cage.
Now? However hard it got, this was living. Properly. For herself.
