**Diary Entry**
And where do you think youre going? Veronicas voice dripped with disapproval.
Elizabeth sighed, fastening her bag. Her stomach twisted at the familiar toneher mothers prelude to another interrogation.
To work, Mum, she replied, keeping her voice steady.
What work? Veronicas pitch rose sharply. Youre not on the rota today! I remember! Where are you really going?
Elizabeth turned. Her mother stood in the doorway, arms crossed.
They asked me to cover a shift at the shop. Extra money never hurts, she explained calmly.
Youre lying! Veronica snapped, stepping closer. Think I dont know? Off gallivanting with some lad, arent you? Ungrateful! I raised you, gave you everything, and you dare lie to my face?
Veronica was in full fury now, her cheeks flushing red.
Elizabeth met her eyes. The exhaustion, the years of swallowed pain in that look made Veronica pause.
You can come with me if you dont believe me, Elizabeth said quietly, then walked out without waiting for a reply.
The shouts behind her blurred into noise.
On the walk to work, her thoughts fluttered like caged birds. Twenty-four. She was twenty-four, yet her mother treated her like she was twelve. It wasnt normal. Other women her age had flats, careers, boyfriends. Her? She hadnt even gone to university.
The memory stung. Shed dreamed of teachingstudied, passed her exams, even got the grades. But her mothers hysterics, the screaming, wore her down.
What do you need university for? Youll just gad about like those students! And what about me? Wholl look after me?
So shed given in. As always.
Her mother got her a job at the corner shopfive minutes from home.
So I know where you are, Veronica had said.
And she checked. Often. Popping in under the pretence of buying bread or milk, really just ensuring Elizabeth was where she belonged.
It had started earlier, though. Elizabeth remembered being a teenhome to school and back, timed to the minute. Two minutes late meant an inquisition: Where? Who with? Why? Wanting to walk home with classmates? A row. A friends birthday party? Begging, tears, then refusal.
Who knows what goes on at those parties?
Elizabeth pushed open the shop door. The bell jingled; the smell of fresh pastries from the bakery section filled the air. She changed into her uniform in the stockroom and stepped out.
Somehow, shed accepted it. Day by day, year by year. As she restocked shelves, she overheard her coworkersMegan and Sophiechatting about weekend plans.
Were trying that new café Saturday, Megan chirped. Then the late film!
Brilliant! Sophie grinned. Sunday, if its nice, we could just walk by the river.
Elizabeth turned away. Her weekends were the same as always: home, chores, telly under her mothers watchful eye.
Two days later, over breakfast, the rebellion brewing in her chest hardened into resolve.
Veronica slammed her palm on the table. Elizabeth flinched, nearly dropping her spoon.
Whats that face for? Spit it out!
Elizabeth swallowed. Her pulse hammered, mouth dry. The words escaped before she could stop them.
I want to move out.
The silence was thick. Veronicas face darkenedpink, then scarlet, then purple.
Move out? You? Have you lost your mind? she finally hissed. Only here, with me, are you safe! Out there, youll be ruined! Men are nothing but liars
Mum, others manage
One more word about leaving, Veronicas voice dropped to a whisper, deadly, and Ill lock you in this flat. Permanently. Understood?
Elizabeth stared, tears spilling freely.
Why? she whispered. Why do this to me?
Veronica leaned back, an odd mix of anger and smugness twisting her face.
Why not? I had you for me, not so you could wander off. You stay. Always.
The words hit like ice water. For her. Not out of loveas a possession. Like a dog.
Veronica snorted, pushed back her chair, and left without another word.
For two days, Elizabeth played the perfect daughter. No arguments, no defiance. Veronica thawed, smug, certain the lesson had stuck. She even smiled once or twice, praised dinner.
But Elizabeth had already decided. Before her next shift, she tucked her passport and the small savings shed hidden under her mattress into her bag.
After her shift, she didnt go home. She knocked on the managers office.
Thomas, she began, hands trembling, I need to quit. Today. No notice. Please.
Thomas frowned. She was a good workernever late, never absent.
Whats happened?
She hesitated, then confessedthe control, the suffocation, the impossibility of her own life.
Thomas thought, then offered, Weve a branch across town. Same pay, decent hours. Shed have a harder time finding you there.
Elizabeth agreed, grateful. She left with a new contract, found a bedsit£500 a month, nothing fancy, but it would do.
At the bus stop, she snapped her SIM card in half and tossed it. Tomorrow, shed get a new number. The old one was only known to her mother and a few coworkers. Gone.
A week in the tiny flat with peeling wallpaper felt like freedom. She woke when she wanted, ate what she liked, breathed without weight.
Sometimes, her hand twitched toward her phoneold habits die hard. But she stopped herself. One call, and her mother would find her, scream, drag her back.
It was terrifying. Loneliness crept in, whispering doubts. Then she remembered: I had you for me.
No. Shed made the only choice she could.
Staying wasnt livingjust slow suffocation. Now, she had a chance. To live for herself, not her mothers sickness. Hard? Yes. But necessary.
Some lessons cost everything. This one was worth it.
