She had been running around in the kitchen for half an hour now, going on about how stupid I had been. I sat there and listened. Well, I saw her lips moving, and for every word they formed, I was getting angrier and angrier. Every objection I had she interrupted to continue her own endless monologue in an even higher pitch than before. By now she was close to screaming:
“If you represent an adult, then you should be able to bare the consequences of your own actions, right?”
Thousand snide comments and insults began to pass through my brain and I had to restrain myself so that they would not bubble out of me as a pure vomit of words. Instead I replied with a sarcastic statement, which caused her to lose the thread for two seconds. I saw my window of opportunity to speak:
“You must understand that I could not call you in the middle of the night just for asking for permission to stay out longer! I AM an adult and it's up to me how long I’ll stay out! What the hell would my friend’s thi…”
I didn’t manage to finish my attack before she cut me off with a sharp voice tone:
“You are counted as an adult, but you do not act like one and as long as you live at home, I am the one who decides the rules! And when you texted me that you were supposed to be home at 11, I counted on THAT. Then, when you weren’t home I was really worried, don’t you get that?”
I really could not stand it another minute, so I aggressively pushed the chair out from the table and stood up so violently that it flipped over. When I turned around to leave the kitchen, my rapid movement also tipped the glass of milk over the edge of the table and crashed right into the floor. I really enjoyed the dramatic effect that the sound of breaking glass had to the situation, so I left the kitchen smiling, without even giving it a glance.
Earlier that week, Friday to be exact, I got a text from my best friend Alexander at 4 in the afternoon: “Are you coming out with us tonight? There’s this big...