If I thought it would actually hurt him, I’d kick him in the nuts. Instead, I slouched forward even more, squeezed my hands into fists so tight my nails dug into my palms, and gritted out, “I. Know. That.”
Good God, I didn’t know it was possible to sound like I’d been a chain-smoker for half my life, but it was. “Believe me. I’ve moved more in my life and have had to leave so much shit behind every time, thatI know that.That’s why I don’t keep that much stuff anymore. But there were still….” This was harder than I’d thought, and really, I was getting more and more pissed by the fucking second. Not just at him but at everything. “There were still a few things I was able to keep. A few things that really meant something to me. They were all I had left of the people I loved, okay? So please cut me some slack for being upset that I lost things that I can never replace.” I choked every single word out so that I wouldn’t scream. Or cry. I wasn’t sure which was worse.
Then I made the mistake of glancing at him, there on the floor, his face dirty, and snapped, looking him right in the fucking purple eye, “And you’re ugly when you cry.”
Whether it was my words or tone or both, that got him to shut up.
It wasn’t my best comeback. I was rusty. I hadn’t talked shit back to anyone since my Xbox days, and I really had tried so hard to be nice to him.
But I didn’t care anymore. My hands shook, and my breathing got choppy as I tried to tell myself that I had been planning on leaving and not taking 99 percent of the things in the mobile home with me.
But it didn’t help.
It really didn’t help.
Nothing did.
* * *
My life was fucking over, I thought sometime later.
But I guess it had been over since the day my parents had done the stupidest shit possible.
Most of my choices had been taken away from me before I’d even been born.
But now… now, it was official. Now it was real. It wasallover.
I cried so much I was out of tears.
And energy.
Trying not to make a sound as your world imploded around you was a hell of a lot harder than making a big stink about it. That was for fucking sure. Staying positive? I might as well have convinced myself I was going to win a gold medal at the next Olympics.
I felt miserable in body and spirit when I finally rolled to face the ceiling. There was something almost therapeutic about lying on your stomach, crying into your stacked arms. Maybe it was just me though. I didn’t cry often. I’d been dealing with a bad hand my whole fucking life. All I’d ever known was to keep going, even when it wasn’t easy, and all I wanted to do was wallow.
But I didn’t know how to do that with this.
I was alone, and I had no idea what I was doing, and I had no clue what was going to happen.
The truth was a fucking asshole that didn’t wear a cape. It had a hammer like Thor, but it wasn’t always used for good.
I felt beyond tapped out in the time after The Defender gave me the news about my things being lost as I tried to finally put myself back together and reason out the few options I had left. I told myself over and over and over again that stuff was just stuff and I would still have my loved ones with me always in my heart. After, I told myself that I still had a lot of pictures in my safe deposit box. You know, because of the paranoia of having to leave at a moment’s notice.
What hurt the most was the possibility I might have lost the voice mails my grandparents had left me.
I wasn’t ready to quit being upset, but I didn’t have to totally waste my time either.
What I knew for sure was: There was a small chance I might starve to death. Maybe be tortured. I might be saying goodbye to my organs or a few digits, but I sure as hell hoped not.
Those fuckers had burned my house down. Even if we somehow got out of here, I had nowhere to go because I hadn’t planned far enough ahead. A big chunk of my emergency cash was gone, and I had no access to my bank account.
Basically, I was in a worse situation than I ever could have imagined, and I was trying my best not to give up.
I still had my life. I could figure out the rest if I had a chance.
I sniffled once, then twice, and felt my face scrunching up again. My fucking lip was trembling. And everythinghurt.
But if thiswasthe end, at least… at least I wouldn’t be alone—not that this pain in the ass was at the top of my list of people I would prefer to spend my last moments with, but he was stillsomeone.
