“What are you all dressed in black for?” her grandmother complained. “You going to a funeral?”
Kay rolled her eyes. Old people just didn’t understand. “I don’t need to go to funeral to dress in black. All the kids are doing it.” That wasn’t quite true, actually. She just didn’t think she’d understand Goth.
She didn’t do it because she was fucked in the head, or because she was sad or mourning. It was a fucking fashion statement.
Only… that wasn’t true.
The first time her mum had heard her listening to Jack Off Jill… “What is this? Why are you listening to this garbage?”
After fiercely defending her style in music, she soon had to defend her mind. “Are you alright, dear? Is there anything we need to talk about?”
“No!” Kay had shouted, and slammed her mother out of her room.
But in the privacy and darkness of her room, she began to wonder. She used her music to help her probe deep into her mind. At the end of the night, she was cradling herself from crying about everything; the isolation from her parent’s divorce; the abuse she’d suffered under her uncle’s hand; the death of her baby sister.
Her grandmother was judging her. She had only recently sorted all this out — somehow — with her mother, and she wasn’t exactly ready to share yet.
“If all the kids jumped off a bridge, would you?”
“No, but I’d push you –” she lashed out.
She looked to her mother. Great, here it came. She was gonna drag her away to have a talk.
“Can I see you in the other room?”
Sarcastically, she spat, “All hail the talk!”
She let herself be dragged away to drudge through it. She knew all this, and it wasn’t helping. In fact, it just made her feel worse.
“Okay?” said her mother.
“Whatever. I’m going out.” She wasn’t listening to another word; she stuck a cigarette in her mouth and shot out the back door.