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annoyed. I hate that she’s high. “What did you take?”
Mom pulls back and runs her fingers
through my hair in very fast successive
motions. “Nothing.”
I note her red eyes and dilated pupils and tilt my head.
“Okay, just some pot.” She smiles while a tear runs down her face. “Do you want a bowl?
We have new neighbors and they’re into
sharing. Let’s go.”
Snatching Mom’s hand, I push past her and into the apartment. “You need to pack.”
“Elisabeth! Don’t!”
“What the hell?” The place is trashed. Not like normal trashed. This is beyond dirty dishes, mud-caked floors, and fast-food wrappers on the furniture. The cushions of the couch lie on the threadbare carpet, both ripped open. The coffee table could now be used as kindling. The insides of Mom’s small television lie exposed near the three-foot kitchen.
“Someone broke in.” Mom shuts the door
behind her, locking one of the dead bolts.
“Bullshit.” I turn and face her. “People who HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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break in steal shit and you don’t have shit to steal. And what the hell is that stench?”
I dyed Easter eggs with Scott once and our trailer smelled like vinegar for days.
“I’m cleaning,” Mom says. “The bathroom. I got sick in there earlier.”
Her words hit me hard. Puking can mean an OD. My worst nightmare for my mother.
“What did you take?”
She shakes her head and nervously laughs.
“I told you, pot. A little beer. I’m barely buzzing.”
Ah, hell. “Are you pregnant?”
I hate it when she has to think for an answer.
“No. No. I’m taking those pills. It’s good you found a way to have them sent to me in the mail.”
Kneading my eyes with my palms, I gather
my wits. None of this matters. “Get your stuff together. We’re leaving.”
“Why? I haven’t received an eviction
notice.”
“We’re gypsies, remember?” I say, trying to lighten the mood. “We never stay still.”
“No, Elisabeth. You have the gypsy soul, not me.”
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Her statement stops me short and I wait
for her to explain. Mom sways from side to side. Whatever. She’s high and I don’t have time for this. I step over the shredded coffee table. “Isaiah offered to take me to the beach and you’re coming with us. We’ll lay low until I turn eighteen next summer and then we’ll be home free.”
“What about Trent?”
“He beats you. You don’t need that asshole!”
I spot a couple of plastic shopping bags in the corner. Those will do. Mom owns few items worth packing.
“Elisabeth!” Mom kicks the remains of the coffee table as she bolts after me. She grabs my arm. “Stop!”
“Stop? Mom, we have to go. You know if
Trent comes back and finds me here…”
She cuts me off and runs her fingers through my hair again. “He’ll kill you.” Her eyes pool with tears and she sniffles again. “He’ll kill you,” she repeats. “I can’t go.”
My entire body bottoms out like a fast
sobering from a high. “You have to.”
“No, baby. I can’t go now. Give me a few
weeks. I got some business to take care of and HC TITLE-AUTHOR
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then we’ll leave together. I promise.”
Business? “We’re leaving. Now.”
Her fingers curl in my hair and tighten,
yanking to the point of pain. She leans down and places her forehead to mine. The stench of beer rolls off her breath. “I promise. I promise I’ll go with you. Listen to me. I have to clean some stuff up. Give me a couple of weeks, then we’ll go.”
The doorknob wiggles and my heart kicks
into high gear. He’s back.
Mom grips my hand painfully. “My
bedroom.” She drags me through the apartment and loses her balance as she trips over the pieces of broken furniture. “Go out the window.”
Bile rises in my throat and I begin to shake.
“No. Not without you.”
Leaving Mom here is like watching sand run out of an hourglass while I’m chained to the wall, unable to flip it back over. Someday, Trent will go too far and it won’t just be a bruise or a broken bone. He’ll take the life out of her body. Time with Trent is an enemy.
“Sky!” Trent shouts when he enters the
apartment. “I told you to keep the door
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unlocked.”
Mom hugs me tightly. “Go, baby,” she
whispers. “Come and get me in a few weeks.”
She rips the cardboard off the glass and I jump back when a hand shoots through the already open window. “Give her to me.”
Isaiah pokes his head in and both of his
hands latch onto my body. I stop breathing and realize one way or another, one of these guys is going to kill me.
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Ryan
I SNAP MY ARM FORWARD. With a thump, the