Chapter 16
Sixteen
Teddy
It’s been a while since I last spoke to my mom. Months.
The move from her house has been gradual.
I never walked up to her and officially declared that I was leaving.
No. It started years ago, when I first met Liam.
It quickly went from only hanging out to skate after school, to me staying over in his tiny hotel room every weekend.
It was difficult for me because I knew I was imposing on him and his mom, but that feeling was better than what I faced at home.
Back then, when the minutes approached the ringing of final bell, signaling the end of the school day, most kids were excited to finally go home.
They would pack their backpacks early, annoying the teacher by interrupting the silence of the classroom with the obnoxious sounds of zippers and books slamming shut.
I dreaded it—my stomach would plummet into an inky black pit of anxiety.
It was physically painful and so taxing after days and years of dealing with it.
I was constantly exhausted from being on edge.
I’d leap for any opportunity to not go home, or to at least put it off.
So, when I met Liam, of course I clung to him like a lifeline because that’s what he was for me. My last hope.
My mom tried to play at being annoyed at first. She would ask me where I had been and with who.
She’d tell me that I must be lying because I don’t have any friends.
I would get punished. My punishments were her way of using me as her own personal slave, though.
Scrub every tile in the kitchen with this toothbrush.
It’s not good enough. Are you fucking stupid, or do you just think I am? Do it again. And again. And again.
She would sit there drunk and high on cocaine and watch me scrub for hours, and I had to look into her bloodshot eyes and slackened face and show her respect.
She didn’t deserve it, but I did it anyway.
I quickly learned as a young kid that the best thing for me to do was to not say anything at all.
Yes, ma’am. No, ma’am. That was it. It didn’t matter that it was one in the morning, and I had to be up for school in a few hours.
It didn’t matter that I had homework to do—I’d just have to do it before or after class.
Coming home ended in pain and staying away ended in pain as well—it was an exhausting cycle.
Eventually, though, she seemed to start ignoring me all together.
I think she realized that if I was never home, her life was easier in some way.
That’s when she got much worse. The men started coming in and out, and I had to worry about her safety and mine.
It’s the strangest thing to absolutely loathe someone but instinctually care about their safety—a small tug constantly in the back of your mind no matter how much you want it to go away.
How could I still care about someone who made me wish I never existed?
Soon enough, the weekends at Liam’s turned into weeknights as well, and during the summer, I pretty much lived there.
I’d spend as much time away during the day as I could and nights too.
It’s the reason I ended up partying so much.
I’d crash at any party and stay the night or go home with someone and sleep there.
That lifestyle always put me in uncomfortable situations, but it made me feel better because I was bothering Liam and his mom less.
They didn’t ask for a lost kid to take care of, but his mom treated me like her own anyways.
Liam was the only reason I hung on—I hate to think of what I would’ve done if he hadn’t been there for me through it all.
I look up at him from my place on his chest. An overwhelming feeling of gratefulness washes over me, constricting my heart, and I plant a kiss on the corner of his mouth.
“I think it’s time to check on my mom,” I mutter hesitantly, not wanting to speak it into existence.
He narrows his gaze at me in concern. “I don’t think you should, angel. You already know how it’s gonna go.”
I swallow loudly, trying to wet my rapidly drying throat.
“I know, but I just need to make sure she’s alive at the very least. You don’t have to come with me.
” I reluctantly peel myself from his warmth and walk over to the wardrobe, pulling out an outfit.
When I turn around, Liam’s back is against the headboard, arms crossed over his chest. His pectoral muscles look even larger when he does that.
I lick my lips and start pulling my clothes on.
“I’m coming with you,” he says with finality.
“It’s fine, really—"
“Stop.” I stop clumsily jumping into my skinny jeans, almost toppling over. “I’m coming with you because who fucking knows what you’ll end up finding at that piece of shit’s house. I know how you get.”
My eyes widen in shock and blood rushes up my neck. I love when he gets all growly and commanding like that. I nod my head at him because arguing with Liam is useless.
We had to take a bus and skate a little to get to my mom’s place.
As soon as we come to a stop in front of it, the thick humid air becomes suffocating without the constant wind from skateboarding.
Liam’s face is set in stone, as he takes in the house my mom lives in now.
He hasn’t had a chance to see it since she moved the last time, and it’s definitely an eyesore.
I lift my shirt and wipe the sweat from my forehead, so it doesn’t drip into my eyes and trudge forward.
The house is a little bit larger than a shed.
It’s a studio apartment so there’s only one large room and a bathroom.
I’ve seen some nice studios, but this one is more like a pile of shit.
The grass and weeds nearly reach my knees, and the stench of hot, rotten garbage assaults my nose as we get closer.
Right next to the front door, there are garbage bags that have been ripped to shreds, probably by stray cats or rodents—their contents scattered throughout the yard.
Liam’s skin is probably crawling and we haven’t even seen the inside yet.
A shudder runs down my spine as I give the doorknob a try, and it springs open.
I shake my head sadly, a million bad thoughts running through my mind in the blink of an eye.
Anyone could come inside. They could rape her, beat her, rob her.
There’s that feeling again in the pit of my stomach, like a clawed hand has seized it in its grip, squeezing painfully.
The inside is so much worse than the outside.
I gasp in horror. Every square inch of the floor is covered in trash and clothes.
The only piece of real furniture is a stain-covered mattress at the far end of the room.
My eyes take in the countless plastic vodka jugs.
It’s the same brand she’s always drank because it has the most vodka for the least amount of money.
They’re everywhere. Liam kicks shit out of his way only to reveal a swarm of roaches.
I gag, nearly throwing up, but I manage to swallow it back down.
The buzzing of what has to be hundreds of flies is the only sound in the room.
“What the actual fuck, T,” Liam gapes.
“I didn’t know it had gotten this bad,” I stutter and clear my throat.
Feeling a little lightheaded from trying to hold my breath as much as possible, I squeeze my nostrils together with my fingers. Breathing shallowly through my mouth, I follow behind him as he clears a path. She’s not in the bed and the bathroom door is wide open, so he guides us toward it.
“Fuck,” He says roughly, and turns around. “Don’t look.”
“W-what do you mean?”
I peer around his broad chest anyway, and spot her bruise covered leg wrapped in fish-net stockings and six-inch tall heels.
I gasp and slam my hand to my mouth, my heart pounding against my ribcage.
I push past Liam and see her there, sprawled out on the grimy floor, her head laying in a puddle of vomit.
My eyes quickly cloud with tears as I fall to my knees.
“M-mom. Mom.” The words tumble from my aching throat.
I lean forward and press my fingers to the pale skin of her neck.
She’s alive.
I choke on a sob and scramble off her. “Her heart’s beating,” I sniff, wiping at my eyes. Liam pulls me to his chest, pressing his lips into my hair and shushing me for long minutes until I stop trembling uncontrollably.
“What do we do?” I ask, pulling away from him. When my eyes land on her again, I flinch.
“We need to try to wake her up,” he says, sounding unsure.
He moves around me and plants his feet on either side of her body, bending over. He starts shaking her softly. She doesn’t budge, so he says her name and gets more forceful. “Diana. Diana. Diana.” He gets louder each time.
I stand there uselessly, chewing a hole in my cheek, feeling more thankful than ever that he came with me. I don’t have the strength to do this—to raise my voice and shake her violently. I fear her even in her sleep.
I’m so hungry; my stomach feels like it’s eating itself. It’s the weekend so I can’t eat breakfast and lunch at school like I usually do. Other kids talk about how gross it is, but I don’t see anything wrong with it.
Desperation brings me to her door that’s been shut for the past two days.
She might have food in there, maybe some old McDonalds or something.
I’ve already looked through all the cabinets in the kitchen, using a chair to climb on the counter to see into them.
Nothing. There’s usually at least rice; I know how to cook that on my own, but I guess it’s all gone now.