Side effects of obedience (part 15)

This story was submitted on September 26th 2026 by Cicada33, author of The road to freedom. If you have a story to submit it’s right here !

This story is a series divided into 15 parts:

The rays of the afternoon sun forced their way through heavy, half-closed blinds, cutting the living room in half and illuminating tiny dust particles floating in the air. From the floor speakers came a slow, deep bass, heavy electronic music permeating the entire apartment.

I was sitting with my head thrown back on the sectional sofa, feet propped up on the table, watching the spirals of white smoke from my red Marlboro merge with Marta’s. The table in front of us was a picture of our new life, an overflowing glass ashtray where cigarette butts had piled up, empty beer cans with droplets of condensation on the metal, an open pack of cigarettes, and scattered lighters. The air in the apartment was thick, heavy, saturated with the smell of tobacco, coffee, and stale alcohol from the previous night.

Suddenly, cutting through the bass that rattled the parquet floor, a sound ripped through, one that cut us both short.

It was frantic, violent pounding on the metal apartment door. It wasn’t a knock, it was aggression. A fist hitting the wood and metal so hard it seemed like it would break the hinges.

“ENA! OPEN THIS DOOR! Ena, I know you’re inside, open right now!”

My mother’s voice. The exact same voice that had haunted me in my dreams for years, the voice that dictated my grades, my clothes, my life, and my future.

Marta raised her head slightly from the pillow, lifting an eyebrow with an expression of quiet curiosity, but no panic. I didn’t even move for the first couple of seconds. I took another long, steady drag, let the smoke slowly escape through my nose, and only then got up from the sofa. Every step I took toward the door was slow, measured, and defiant. Barefoot, in an oversized black t-shirt with a slit revealing a toned leg and tight shorts, I approached the entrance while the storm raged outside.

I pushed the latch and unlocked it.

Mother literally burst into the hallway like a natural disaster. She brought with her the scent of expensive, sterile perfume that instantly collided with the heavy smell of smoke in the apartment. She stopped dead in the middle of the hallway, breathing heavily, her eyes widening with rage. In her right hand, she clutched a crumpled, brand-new copy of Obsession magazine.

“What is this?” the sentence cut off in her throat.

Her gaze began to wander over me, and in that moment, I saw something I had never seen in her eyes before, pure, unadulterated shock.

And she had plenty to see. Bleached platinum blonde hair, wild and untamed, fell over my shoulders. Her gaze traveled downward, across my bare stomach where a silver belly button piercing gleamed, all the way down to my right wrist where a fresh, black snake tattoo was clearly visible. I was no longer her dark-haired, obedient little girl in ironed shirts who bowed her head the moment an exam was mentioned.

” God… what have you done to yourself?” she gasped, her voice trembling with a mixture of anger and disgust. She pushed past me into the living room, and her horror only deepened. She looked at the table the ashtray overflowing with butts, the empty cans, and then at Marta, who was still sitting completely calmly on the sofa, holding a cigarette between her fingers and watching her with cold amusement.

“How can this smell… What kind of a pigsty is this?! Who is this disheveled girl? Have you lost your mind?!” Mother picked up the magazine and threw it onto the table, right in front of the ashtray. On the cover, bathed in neon light, was me legs spread, lips wrapped around a cigarette, with an expression on my face that screamed pure, reckless dominance.

“The whole city is talking about this!” she screamed, her face turning a blotchy red. “My colleagues, our friends… Everyone is sending me pictures! They’re showing me how my daughter, a medical student, is posing like a low-class streetwalker with a cigarette in her mouth! Is this the scum you left college for? For this rat hole?!”

She lunged toward me, grabbing my forearm tightly, trying to pull me toward the exit with the exact same grip she had used to guide me through childhood.

“Enough is enough! Pack your bags, you’re coming home! I’ll teach you some sense, I don’t care how old you are! We didn’t invest all this money in you, we didn’t raise you to make the absolute bottom of the barrel out of yourself and shame us wherever you go!”

Her grip was firm. Once upon a time, that touch would have broken me. Once upon a time, I would have burst into tears, begged for forgiveness, and agreed to anything just to buy a crumb of her love.

But not anymore.

I looked her in the eyes, and there wasn’t a trace of fear inside me. Only cold, poisonous contempt. I grabbed her hand with my other fist the one with the tattooed snake and wrenched myself out of her grip with such force that she staggered backward for a moment.

“Take those filthy hands off me,” I said. My voice didn’t tremble. It was low, raspy from smoke, and dangerously calm.

“What did you say?!” she went pale.

“You heard me just fine,” I took a step toward her, curving my lips into the ugliest, most venomous smile. “You’re talking to me about upbringing? About investment? You, who built my entire life on lies? You think I don’t know who you were before you started playing the respectable lady and saint? I know all about your ‘honest’ life and lukewarm morals! I know all your secrets that you’re trying to wash clean through me!”

Mother’s face changed in a second. The look of rage was replaced by sudden panic. I knew that look, the glassy glare in the eyes when you realize your house of cards has collapsed.

“And you know what the best part is?” I continued, walking slowly toward her and pushing her back toward the hallway. “I fixed your biggest mistake. I’ve been working at Lisa’s for months. And that Lisa, the one you hate and trash so much because she reminds you of what you used to be is a hundred times better, cleaner, and more honest person than you will ever be in your miserable, hypocritical life!”

“Ena… how can you speak to me like that, I am your mother” she stammered, completely shattered under the onslaught of my aggression. Surprised, shocked, and frightened in front of a girl she no longer recognized.

“You were!” I shouted, flinging the front door wide open. “To you, I’m just an old, frustrated woman who has no control over me anymore! Walk out of my apartment! RIGHT NOW!”

I pointed my finger toward the hallway. Mother looked at me one more time, in absolute disbelief, mouth open in mute shock, and then she shoved her bag under her arm and stepped outside.

I didn’t wait a second. I grabbed the heavy door and slammed it with such force that the entire building shook. The sound echoed through the hallway like a gunshot.

I stood leaning my forehead against the wooden door, holding onto the handle. My heart was beating like crazy; alcohol and nicotine were replaced by pure, raw adrenaline coursing through every drop of blood. I was breathing heavily, feeling every muscle in my body tremble, not from fear, but from sheer, untamed power. I won. I finally killed her. I killed all her ghosts inside me.

Behind my back, quiet footsteps sounded. Marta approached. I felt her warm breath on my shoulder, her scent of tobacco and sweet perfume. She put her hand on my hip, gently embracing me from behind, thinking I needed support, thinking I would break down or cry after the storm had passed.

I twisted out of her grip and turned to face her. Marta looked at me with a mild concern and tenderness in her eyes, ready to comfort me. However, under that surge of wild adrenaline, under the influence of that complete, liberating power that had possessed me, I didn’t want comfort. I wanted everything.

I grabbed Marta by the hair and the back of her neck, pulled her close, and kissed her fiercely on the mouth.

Marta froze for a millisecond in surprise, and then let out a soft sigh and returned the kiss with equal ferocity, wrapping her arms around my waist. The kiss was hot, dangerous, tasting of smoke and victory.

In that moment, right as I kissed her in the middle of our stuffy, liberated apartment, I knew there was no turning back. The old Ena was dead and buried. And the new Ena had finally gotten everything she ever wanted.

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Side effects of obedience (part 15)

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