And where do you think youre going? Veronicas voice was sharp with disapproval.
Emma sighed deeply as she fastened her bag, her stomach tightening at her mothers familiar tone, the one that always preceded an interrogation.
To work, Mum, she replied, keeping her voice steady.
What work? Veronicas pitch rose sharply. Youre not scheduled today! I remember perfectly well! Where are you really going? Out with some boy, arent you? Ungrateful girl! After everything Ive sacrificed for you, and now you lie to my face?
Emma turned to face her. Veronica stood in the doorway, arms crossed, her face flushed with anger.
They asked me to cover a shift at the shop. Extra money never hurts, Emma explained calmly.
Liar! Veronica snapped, stepping forward. You think I dont know? Youre sneaking off to meet some lad! I raised you, gave you everything, and this is how you repay me?
Emma met her mothers eyes. The exhaustion, the years of smothered pain, lingered in her gazejust long enough to silence Veronica for a moment.
You can come with me if you dont believe me, Emma said quietly. Without waiting for an answer, she walked out the door.
Behind her, Veronica shouted something indistinct, but Emma didnt look back.
As she walked to work, her thoughts fluttered like trapped birds. Twenty-four years old, yet she lived under surveillance as if she were twelve. It wasnt normal. Other women her age had flats, careers, relationships. But Emma? She hadnt even made it to university.
The memory stung. Shed dreamed of studying teaching, had even passed her examsonly for Veronica to erupt in hysterics.
What do you need university for? Youll just gallivant around like those reckless students! And who will look after me? Veronica had shrieked.
So Emma had given in, as always.
Her mother had arranged the job at the local shopfive minutes from home, no further.
So I always know where you are, Veronica had said.
And she checked. Often. Dropping by under the pretence of buying milk or bread, just to ensure Emma was exactly where she should be.
It had started long before that. Emma remembered her teenage years: home to school and back, timed to the minute. A two-minute delay meant a full inquisitionwhere had she been, who had she spoken to, why was she late? Wanting to walk home with classmates? A row. A birthday party invitation? Hours of pleading, tears, and eventual refusal.
Who knows what goes on at those parties, Veronica would say.
Emma pushed open the shop door, the bell jingling overhead. The scent of fresh bread drifted from the bakery section. She changed into her uniform in the back before stepping onto the shop floor.
Somehow, shed grown used to itday after day, year after year. As she restocked shelves, she overheard her colleagues, Lucy and Sophie, chattering about weekend plans.
Were trying that new café Saturday, then the late cinema showing! Lucy said excitedly.
Perfect! Sophie agreed. And Sunday, maybe a walk in the park if the weather holds.
Emma turned away. Her own weekend plans? The same as always: home, chores, telly under Veronicas watchful eye.
Two days later, over breakfast, Emma stared blankly at her porridge. The rebellion simmering inside her had finally taken shape.
Veronica slammed her hand on the table. Emma flinched, nearly dropping her spoon.
Whats that look for? Out with it! her mother demanded.
Emma looked up, her heart pounding. The words tumbled out before she could stop them:
I want to move out.
Silence. Veronicas face darkenedpink, then red, then purple.
Move out? You? Her voice was a hoarse whisper. Youd be lost without me! The worlds cruel, men are liars
But others manage, Emma tried.
If you ever mention leaving again, Veronicas tone turned icy, Ill lock you in this flat. Permanently. Understood?
Tears streamed down Emmas face.
Why? she whispered. Why do you do this?
Veronica leaned back, an odd mix of anger and satisfaction twisting her features.
Because I had you for me, she said simply. Not so you could wander off wherever you please. You stay with me. Always.
The words hit Emma like freezing water. For her. Not out of love, not for joy. For possession. Like a pet. A thing.
Veronica snorted and left the table, leaving Emma to digest the truth alone.
…For two days, Emma played the dutiful daughter. No arguments, no defiance. Veronica softened, convinced shed won.
But Emma had already decided. Before her next shift, she tucked her passport and secretly saved cash£500 hidden under her mattressinto her bag.
After work, she didnt go home. She knocked on the managers office.
Mr. Thompson, her voice shook, I need to quit. Today. No notice. Please.
He frowned. Emma was reliable, never late.
Whats happened?
She hesitated, then explainedthe control, the suffocation.
Listen, he said thoughtfully, weve a branch across town. Same pay. Your mother wont find you so easily.
Grateful, Emma accepted. She left with a new contract, then found a flata tiny room for £400 a month, but it was hers.
At the bus stop, she destroyed her SIM card. Tomorrow, shed get a new number. A fresh start.
…A week later, Emmas shabby little room felt like freedom. She woke when she chose, ate what she liked, breathed without weight.
Sometimes, her hand still reached for her phoneold habits died hard. But she stopped herself. One call, and Veronica would drag her back.
It was terrifying. Lonely. Doubt crept in.
Then she remembered: I had you for me.
And she knewshed done the right thing. Staying would have been a slow death. Now, she had a chance. To live for herself, not as someones possession.
It was hard. Unbearably hard. But there was no other way.
A life of her own was worth the fear.
