“I think so.”

It was immediately apparent that I had said the wrong thing. Both my mother and grandmother turned towards me slowly, their expressions identical and disapproving.

“You think you have everything?” my mother echoed, her tone taking on a mocking edge. “Well, do you want to go upstairs and check?”

The question felt like an order, and I knew my mom wanted me to agree without hesitation, but it was a trap. I could sense it, and I was too experienced to fall for it. If I were to do as she wanted and go back upstairs, it would just make her furious. It was already later than she wanted, and we hadn’t left. She would blame me even more so than she already planned to, and the journey home would be a nightmare.

It was already going to be, but things would get worse, and I didn’t want that. Going upstairs and searching the room again wouldn’t be worth it. Plus, I was pretty sure I hadn’t left anything behind. If I had, it was too late.

“No,” I said, my tone more confident than I felt. “I have everything.”

The judgement didn’t leave my grandmother’s face, and she stared at me for a few more seconds, making sure I knew how she felt, before turning and moving towards the table.

“Mmm,” was all my mother said once it became clear my grandmother didn’t intend to say anything.

She didn’t bother looking back at me as she started to load her mug and plate into the dishwasher. I hovered awkwardly, unsure of what to do. It felt so weird for me to just stand in the doorway, but I also didn’t want to enter the room. That somehow felt more uncomfortable, and I glanced at my grandmother as I tried to work out what to do.

Her eyes were fixed on the window in front of her. She wasn’t paying any attention to me or my mom, who was still loading things into the dishwasher loudly. I watched as she lifted her coffee up to her lips and took a sip, still staring out at the world. The coffee was billowing steam. It must have burnt her lips, but she didn’t react at all.

I looked back at my mom. She had stopped moving and was staring at my grandmother too, but she must have felt my gaze because she blinked quickly and looked at me.

“Well, do you want to go get your shoes on?” she asked, her tone making it clear she was ordering me around again. She turned back to her mom, her voice becoming slightly louder and much happier. “Mom, shall I go and find Dad?”

“There’s no need to bother him.”

I was so glad I’d already turned away because I couldn’t help the wince that flitted across my face at that comment, and I knew my mom wouldn’t have been happy if she’d seen it. My grandmother was just so rude and callous, and it made me want to say something. It was clear how much she was hurting my mom; there was no way she could miss it, but she didn’t seem to care at all.

My hands squeezed into fists as I began to walk away, hoping some distance would make it easier to ignore the temptation, but it barely dimmed. We were about to leave and didn’t visit at Christmas anymore, so it would be almost a year before we saw them again. Surely, my grandfather would want to see his daughter before we left. I knew he didn’t really care about me, but she was his daughter. I couldn’t imagine my dad ever treating me so coldly.

“Oh… great. Well, make sure to give him my love and tell him it was great to see him,” I heard my mother say, a forced smile audible in her voice.

Luckily, the click of my mother’s heels on the kitchen floor drowned out whatever horrible thing my grandmother said in response, and I was glad. I didn’t want to hear it. The way my grandmother acted was just so disgusting. I mean, I knew my mom wasn’t always the nicest person in the world, but she tried so hard with them. She never treated them badly or was rude to them, but they didn’t care.

I reached the front door and hesitated before starting to slip my trainers on, glancing back over my shoulder. To my surprise, my grandmother was in the hallway behind my mother. She was actually walking towards us, even if she was taking her time and pretending to be distracted by the photos on the wall. I’d expected her to stay in the kitchen with her coffee, refusing to come out until my mother called for her or went to get her.

It had happened before. More than once, actually. She always said it was a waste of time to just stand there and wait whilst we faffed with our shoes or bags, apparently unaware that she could use that time to talk to us. She didn’t really do that kind of thing, though. She would never go out of her way to make conversation.

I reached down, hooking my arms into my backpack and lifting it into place before looking up at my mom. She was rooting around in her handbag, searching for something. She was taking ages, though. There was something a little too deliberate about her movements too. It made me feel like she was taking her time on purpose, as if she was waiting for something to happen.

An exasperated sigh came from my grandmother, and my mom’s head snapped up, her keys clasped in her hand.

“Ah, there we go,” she said a little too quickly before beaming at her mom. “Well, it was great to see you! Thank you so much for having us.”

“Not at all,” my grandmother replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.

There was another moment of silence, and I could tell Mom was waiting for her mother to hug her. She’d lifted her arms slightly, and the look of hopeful anticipation on her face as she stared at my grandmother made my heart ache. My grandmother just looked back at her blankly.

The urge to say something rose within me again, but I had no clue what would help the situation, and it felt weird. Would it just irritate my mom more if I interjected? My grandmother would see it as rude. I knew she would, but I wasn’t sure if I cared. Mom would, though. It would upset her.

“Love you, Mom,” my mother said after a pause, stepping towards her and holding her arms out.

A delicately disgusted look appeared on my grandmother’s face, but she allowed my mother to hug her for a couple of seconds before letting her arms fall limp. My mother clung to her for just a moment longer before moving away.

“Yes, yes. Love you too,” she said, looking down as she straightened her clothes. “And watch your speeds as you go past the houses. I don’t want to receive another call from George about your reckless driving.”

It was the same warning she gave every single year, and, like always, my mom forced out a humourless laugh.

“I was nineteen, Mom,” she said, a muscle in her jaw twitching.

Sometimes, she just agreed and let it slide. I think it depended on how exhausted she was by my grandmother or how much she’d angered her. My grandmother didn’t ever seem to care how Mom reacted, though. She still brought it up the following year.

“That’s old enough to know better,” my grandmother snapped. “I was already married to your father and pregnant with your brother at that age. I wasn’t speeding around with no regard for my family’s reputation. Honestly, I don’t know where we went wrong with you.”

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from replying. My mother didn’t say anything, obviously. She just stared down at her keys, her shoulders slumped and her expression unhappy. There was something so… familiar about the sight. I wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but it felt like I was getting an insight into how her mother treated her when she was a kid, and I hated it.

My grandmother looked proud, though. Her lip was curled as she stared at my mother, seeming to enjoy how sad she had made her daughter. I recognised her expression too. It was the same one my mother wore after making me feel horrible, and I wasn’t sure what to make of that. It just made me feel worse, and I wanted to do something to protect my mom or make her feel better.

“Bye,” I said, shattering the silence that had settled around us. “Thank you for letting us stay.”

I purposefully did not say it was nice to see her like my mother had. I wasn’t sure if she’d notice, but part of me hoped she would. It could be dismissed as an unintentional thing, but it wasn’t, and I almost wanted her to suspect that.

My grandmother patted me on the back before letting go, the hug feeling even shorter than the one she’d had with my mother, but I didn’t care. I was ready to leave, and I didn’t really even want to hug her. I didn’t enjoy it. The only reason I did it was because I was meant to, and I knew my mom would get annoyed if I didn’t. So would my grandmother, but that would just be for appearances.

“Safe journey,” my grandmother said, her eyes flitting past me to the front door.

They lingered there for just a moment before returning to my face, and I had to press my lips together as a laugh threatened to escape. It was kind of funny how hard my grandmother was trying to make us leave. She’d given up on any attempts of subtlety, and I was tempted to pretend I hadn’t noticed.

The thought of smiling blankly at my grandmother, refusing to move and instead choosing to make pleasant conversation, pulled at me. It would be so funny. What would she do next if it became clear I hadn’t gotten the message? Would she reach past me and open the door? Or would she just openly tell me to leave? I had no clue, and I would have done it if I couldn’t see how sad it was making my mom.

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She should have been used to it by then. My grandparents were rarely there when we were leaving, but on the rare occasion when they were, they acted the same way. They were always so eager for them to go, and I was happy to comply.

I turned, opening the front door before lifting my bags. A soft breeze reached through the open doorway, caressing my face and carrying the promise of freedom. It was almost impossible not to immediately race outside, but I forced myself to look back at my grandmother and smile before stepping through the door.

“Bye, love you!” I called, trying to keep the happiness out of my voice.

Behind me, my mother attempted to juggle her many suitcases and bags. I glanced back at her, debating offering to help. My hands were already full, though. There wasn’t anything I could do without putting my bags down, but my grandmother wasn’t holding anything. She was just standing there, watching my mother struggle.

Finally, she managed to lift everything. She beamed at my grandmother, who looked back, her expression impassive.

“Bye, mom! Love you!” she said as she slowly stepped out the door, her tone far too light and cheerful. “I’ll give you a ring when we get home!”

“Drive safe,” was all my grandmother said before slamming the door.

The fake smile stayed fixed on my mother’s face as we walked across the gravel, but I could feel the bad mood brewing within her. My eyes flitted towards the trees on the far side of the car. I wished I could just keep walking and not spend the entire day trapped in the car with her, but there was no way to avoid it. I had to go home at some point, and I didn’t want to spend any more time with my grandparents.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be that bad. The journey might go surprisingly quickly, and I barely got any sleep the night before, I told myself. Maybe I’d fall asleep the moment I got in the car and not wake up until we got home. That would be ideal, but I already knew it wasn’t going to happen.

I came to a stop by the back of the car and placed my suitcases down as I waited for my mom to unlock the boot. She took her time, fumbling with her bags and glancing back at the house before finally doing it, and I glanced up at her before slipping my bags into the boot. I tried to make them take up as little space as possible, stacking them on top of each other so her bags could have more room, but she didn’t seem to notice.

She wasn’t even watching. She normally did. Usually, I could feel her gaze burning into me as I put my stuff in the car. She’d sigh or make snide comments throughout, but she remained silent. She just continued to stare into the distance.

Was she looking at something? Or was she waiting for me to do something? She hadn’t even started to put her bags into the boot. Did she want me to do it for her? She didn’t normally like it when I did that. She always found an issue with how I’d done it. Either I put the wrong one on top, and something would apparently get crushed, or I’d left too much space at the side, meaning that everything would slide around and something would get broken. It had never happened before, of course, but apparently, it was only a matter of time.

Hesitantly, I glanced in the direction my mom was looking. My grandfather’s shed was nestled amongst the trees with the door wide open. Confusion washed over me for just a moment. That meant my grandmother was telling the truth, and he’d been out there the whole time, but Mom would have checked. I knew she would have, so he must have been hiding for her. He probably kept the door shut until he heard us loading the car, knowing it was unlikely we’d go over at that point.

I chewed on my lip as my eyes flicked between the shed and my mom again. Her expression was so wistful and uncertain, and that made me feel unsure. We couldn’t just stand around in the driveway all day, but the brief moment of my mom not being annoyed at me or angry was so peaceful. I wasn’t sure if I was ready to give that up just yet, but I had to. If we took too long, my grandmother would probably come out to see what the problem was, and that would be worse.

“Umm… do you want some help?” I offered, hoping she wouldn’t get annoyed at me for interrupting her thoughts.

She blinked, looking around at me.

“What?”

“You know… the suitcases?” I said, gesturing towards the bags lying forgotten around her.

Mom glanced down at them, seeming to have forgotten they were even there.

“Oh,” she said distractedly before glancing back towards the shed. “Yes, that would be nice.”

I picked up the first bag carefully, sliding it into the back of the car. My mom drifted away as I lifted the second one, and I watched her out of the corner of my eye. She didn’t go any further than the front of the car, though. She seemed unable to pass it but unable to look away from the shed again as I placed the rest of her bags in the boot.

Once everything was loaded into the car, and I was certain I hadn’t put anything in the wrong place, I shut the boot. My mom barely reacted to the noise, and I hesitated before beginning to move towards the passenger door, but she still didn’t move.

“Should we go say goodbye?” I asked.

“Hmm?” my mom said, turning towards me before glancing back towards the shed. “Oh, no. It’s fine. He’s probably busy in there. We’ll just wave as we go past.”

My eyes flicked towards the driveway. It didn’t go that close to the shed. We probably wouldn’t be able to see my grandfather unless he actually stepped outside or leaned out the door, and I wasn’t sure if he would. He’d know we were there. He’d most likely already heard us packing the car up, but even if he hadn’t, the crunch of gravel under the wheels was always so loud. There was no way he’d be able to miss it.

But he could just ignore us. That wouldn’t really surprise me.

“That sounds like a good idea,” I lied as I pulled the door open and slipped my phone out of my pocket before climbing in.

Well, it was a better plan than walking over there, only for my grandfather to slam the door moments before we reached it and ignore our knocking. That would be cruel, but he’d done it before. I really didn’t want him to do that to Mom after my grandmother had already been so cold towards her. It would just make everything worse.

I pulled the seat belt into place as my mom started the engine and paused, glancing towards the house again. I couldn’t help but do the same. There was no sign of my grandmother at any of the windows, not that she ever watched us leave. Sometimes, I’d look back just before the house disappeared from view, and I’d catch a glimpse of movement, but I was never sure if she was watching us or if it was just a coincidence.

Finally, my mom rested her hands on the steering wheel and looked across at me. My spine straightened, and immediately, I could tell her mood had shifted. She was no longer distant and distracted by thoughts of her parents. There was a coldness in her eyes, an edge to the way she looked at me.

“Did you use the bathroom before we left?” she demanded. “Because I don’t plan on stopping every five minutes.”

“Yes,” I replied.

She really didn’t need to say that. I was rarely the reason we stopped; it was always because of her. She needed to use the bathroom way more than I did, but I was convinced that sometimes she lied about it so she’d have an excuse to stop for a cigarette. She couldn’t go more than an hour or so without one.

My mom’s eyebrows rose, her expression doubting, as she began to reverse.

“Good. And I hope you’re not too hungry because you’ll have to wait until we stop for lunch,” she told me. “You could have had breakfast this morning, but…”

She shot me a pointed look, and it took all of my self-restraint not to roll my eyes at her. I got up late. I knew that, and she didn’t need to point it out, but she did anyway. I assumed she’d probably do it a few more times before we got home too.

“I’m not hungry.”

That wasn’t exactly a lie. I wasn’t properly hungry. There was a hollow, nagging ache in the pit of my stomach, but it was faint, and I wasn’t even sure if I’d be able to handle eating at that moment. I was still feeling a bit queasy after that horrible dream or whatever it was, and I was worried that if I did eat, I’d get sick. The movement of the car was already making me a little nauseous.

Mom wouldn’t react well if I was ill. If I woke up late and made her stop because I was being sick, it would mean we were running even further behind schedule, and she’d be furious. Or suspicious. I was pretty sure it would make her change her stance on not stopping so she could pick up a pregnancy test and force me to take it again.

“Hmm,” was all she said before her tone changed, brightening instantly as she lowered the window. “Wave to your grandfather, Grace!”

Her voice was so loud I was sure my grandfather must have heard it from the shed. I forced a smile onto my face and waved, waiting to see if he would appear. For a moment, nothing happened.

Tension grew within the car, and the grin started to slip from my face, but then a hand appeared from the open door. My grandfather didn’t bother to actually exit the shed or even lean out. He just waved quickly before disappearing again.

“Bye, Dad,” my mom shouted. “I love you!”

My mom waited for a reply, but none came. Her expression slowly became more pained before she swallowed hard, and her smile became strained as she continued to drive towards the gate. The window stayed down, though. I wasn’t sure if she just hadn’t realised or if she was hoping to hear her dad respond to her as we drove away, but I don’t think he said anything.

I started reaching towards my seat belt as we approached the gates. Mom always made me get out to open them, but to my surprise, a mechanical buzzing sounded. Confusion washed over me as they began to swing open before glancing at the mirror. The house was too far away to see clearly, but my grandmother must have been watching us through the security cameras. The timing was too good. She couldn’t have just guessed how long it would take us to get there.

My mom must have come to the same conclusion because her grin grew even wider. It looked painful, but she didn’t let it fall from her lips until we turned out onto the road, and she finally rolled up the window. She barely sped up, though. We were on a proper road, not just a gravel driveway, but my mom drove so slowly.

Boredom and impatience spun within me as I stared ahead blankly, feeling the need to escape pulling at my mind. It was so painful to just sit there as we moved at a glacial speed past houses with twitching curtains, and I could feel my mom’s mood gradually worsening as her scowl deepened.

I didn’t want to stay there. I couldn’t. My anxiety was starting to spike, and my heartbeat was steadily speeding up. I could feel it happening, but there was nothing I could do to stop it. I was too on edge, too aware that my mom was a bomb, becoming more fragile and likely to detonate by the second. If I stayed there, if I just did nothing, I’d be caught in the explosion.

Dizziness stroked the edge of my mind, the sensation new and so tempting, but I jerked away from it. Terror filled me. Could I risk going somewhere new? I wouldn’t know what to expect there, what was waiting for me. It could be just like the world I’d escaped that morning, and someone could be there, a knife at the ready to drive into my flesh.

I sucked in a deep breath, my eyes flitting towards my mom to make sure she didn’t notice I was hyperventilating. But then, what was the alternative? What could I do instead? Just stay in the real world and do nothing?

Claustrophobia began to smother me, and I tried to inhale slowly, but it wasn’t enough. No matter how hard I tried, it wasn’t enough. I couldn’t breathe. Dizziness started to cloud my mind, and I couldn’t work out if it was from a lack of oxygen or a new world, but that just made my fear sharper. I clutched my phone desperately, the sharp edges of my case cutting into my palm as my vision was overtaken by white spots.