The sound of the slap echoed faintly, and my cheek stung, but the pain barely registered. It was almost gentle compared to the way her words had cut through me moments ago.
For a long while, neither of us spoke. The air felt heavy and suffocating as we breathed in this silence. It was as if we were in a war and the first one to speak would lose.
But I felt I had already won, given I had made her act unlike her usual self.
This was the first time my mother raised her hand on me. Despite all the disdain she showed me all through the years, she never hit me.
But this time was different. It was as if I had pushed her to her limit, and there was only one way to let out that pent-up frustration.
Her hand, which was still slightly raised, trembled. Probably from anger, I don't know anymore. That fuming in her eyes... Yes, it was definitely anger.
Slowly, I straightened, the side of my face burning faintly. I wasn't crying this time. There were no tears left to give her.
