"Did you make this?" her mother sneered, holding the application she had altered for work and given to her as a favor to a friend.
"By all means, tell me how to do my job mother."
Anyone else would take that as the sarcasm as it was, but her mother plopped down on the couch and started reading into the paper. Sighing, she prepped for the criticism and paused the Netflix she'd been trying to watch for the last 3 hours. For the last 3 hours her sister and mother had been sniping at each other, mostly picking the one room she was in.
She hadn't gotten a moments peace except for a half hour of folding laundry, where she discovered that 1/3rd of her clothes had gone missing. Her sister's clothes had gone missing too, no doubt her mom had "helped" and now they were lost forever. One of her new sweaters for work was in with the missing. Still her mother won't accept that she has a problem with her health or her hoarding. She needed to get out of this house.
In the end the things her mother found fault with in the application were just things she didn't understand, and she didn't think it looked professional enough. It wasn't good enough. She wasn't good enough.
She got it, mom.
She needed to move the hell out of that house. She longed for time to pass and lots more paydays to fill her bank account with her escape money.