Novel & Cerita Follando A Mi Madre Borracha

Now that my mother is far from here, I feel calm again without the worry that something bad might happen to her, which I mentioned before her trip and she started laughing non-stop. Flashback "For God's sake, mother! Yesterday you told me that you would return to Mexico, and now out of nowhere, you tell me that you'd rather stay here." I snap angrily, pacing in her room. "I'm not a child you can scold, Alexandre. I'm your mother." She replies, eyes filled with anger. "Don't you realize I worry about you? I don't want anything bad to happen to you. I'm afraid for you. I'm hardly ever home, and if something were to happen to you, I'd never forgive myself."

Consumed by anger and drowning my sorrows in alcohol, I found myself spiraling deeper into the abyss of despair. As I took another swig from the bottle clutched in my trembling hand, a tap on my shoulder jolted me from my drunken stupor. I turned, my bleary eyes struggling to focus on the figure before me. The shimmering tears in her eyes were mirrored by the flickering moonlight, and I realized it was my mother, Mother Tanna, standing beside me.

"Where are you taking me, mother?" I shrieked in fright as my mother dragged me through the streets and stopped outside a dingy little bar with dimly lit lights. "You better not disobey me if you know what is good for you," My mother growled, warning me not to do anything stupid. Her grip on me only tightened, and she plastered a fake smile on her make-up-caked face. I could never understand how she could treat her flesh and blood this way.

"Your father was indeed a great man. I am lucky to have met him a few times, and so is your mother. She is a very sweet soul… When she's not drunk." The last part makes us burst out laughing hysterically. I wipe the tears away from my eyes with the back of my hand. "Or high." I snort, and we burst out laughing again. It's not nice to make fun of your mother, but I remember how clumsy Mother gets when she's drunk. She acts like a child, saying all sorts of gibberish, making no sense at all. "Being with me is not so bad, you see," she says softly after our laughter dies down. We're getting close to the winery; I take a quick glance at her relaxed face.

What made my blood boil was the realization of how close I had come to abandoning everything my caution just because Mother had said she was proud of me. Because she had sounded… like a mother. A real one. I let out a harsh laugh and took another long pull straight from the bottle. She had said that she was proud of me. I had wanted those words so badly I had almost fumbled my hard earned power. If Susanna hadn’t been there, I would have gone straight to Mother. I would have walked straight into whatever trap she’d laid. Like an idiot. The thought made my stomach twist with disgust. I tipped the bottle back and drained the last of it, swallowing hard as the alcohol scorched its way down. Whe

I’d done all that in high heels? What the fuck was happening to me? “Cara, you have to leave. You have to get out. He’s been drinking all day. He won’t remember. But if you’re here… if you’re here it will remind him. Honey, please. You have to get out.” I blinked and looked up at my mother. “Come with me.” “No!” “Mom, I’m serious. This is our chance. Come with me.” “Cara, I can’t—”

my mother continued to repeat, her voice barely audible amidst our cries. We clung to each other, immersing ourselves in the shared sorrow. Eventually, our weeping subsided, and my mother released her embrace, meeting my gaze. "I'm sorry," she repeated once more. I nodded, taking a sip of the liquor in my hand. My mother sat beside me, offering silent support, her mere presence a reminder that I wasn't alone. I continued to drink, seeking solace in the silence while memories of my son flooded my mind. Eventually, fatigue overcame me, and I succumbed to sleep, the liquor-induced slumber.

I repeat the same procedure until it's completely finished. "Well..." I cock my head to the side . How about we try vodka I grab a bottle of vodka and on the first gulp I hiss Shit. This is too strong,what the hell is it? I lift the bottle to read but everything is so fucking blurry. I blink and the bottle slips from my fingers crashing to the floor and shattering into tiny pieces. Shit! I crouch and start picking them only to get cut, Fuck! "What-" my mom opens the door and pauses,she takes in the entire scene and then rushes to me

Leo “I'm fine,” I swallowed, the burn of whiskey still clinging to my throat and the metallic taste of blood still lingering. My mother stood from alpha Matthews' side and walked towards me with concern and maternal instincts written all over her face. Then she stopped midstep, she flared her nose as her eyes shifted immediately. “ You've been drinking?” She uttered in a disappointed voice. It's more like a rhetorical question. I don't dare to answer, I just look at her blankly. This was not what I was expecting on my way back, I didn't want her to see me like this.

She deserved better. One glass turned into three, and soon the wine was gone, replaced by whiskey. The night air grew colder, or maybe it was just me, sitting here in the dark, drinking away my regret. By the time I stumbled back home, the world spun at the edges. I reached the door, fumbling for the handle, but it swung open before I could manage it. My mother stood there, arms crossed, the disappointment etched across her face cutting through my drunken haze.