Page 11 of Scattered Glitter

I came here even though I knew mine wouldn’t be.

“There’s no one for me out there, and that’s fine. Good Lookin’ and I will have such a good time with dancing, boys, and parties,” I say in a baby voice to the cat, who’s still purring like a motorboat in my lap.

I had her spayed when she kept coming back, making sure she could keep her carefree party lifestyle—the same way I had my tubes tied when I turned twenty-one.

I don’t trust myself with pills, shots, or any of that.

“Of course there is,” Annabelle insists, and the sincerity makes my chest tighten. “You will find Mr. Right, and then you’re gonna want to marry him and make pretty babies. You’ll see.”

“Yeah, no thanks.” I chuckle, the sound hollow in my ears. I know that not one of those things is in the stars for me.

Not that I want them to be.

I’m not mom material. Never have been.

“You won’t get to experience the great feeling of unconditional love for a child,” she murmurs, almost to herself. I can hear her longing, and I know she wants to be a wife and mother so badly.

“There are a lot of great feelings I won’t experience in my lifetime. I heard crystal meth is a pretty cool feelingtoo… maybe even better than having kids. I’m not planning to experience that either, though.”

She gives me a look, one of those half-amused, half-exasperated glares she’s perfected over the years, and I laugh, the sound a little more genuine this time. “It’s good to have hopes and dreams, you know, manifest that shit. Like I did. I’ll get everything I ever wanted.”

“And I love that foryou,Belle.”

Annabelle leans back against the couch, looking up at the ceiling, and I lean my head on hers, letting the moment stretch out, filled with the quiet understanding that this is the end of an era. We sit like this for a while, the empty Twinkie wrappers crumpled on the coffee table, the apartment quiet except for the hum of the refrigerator in the kitchen and the purr of the cat in my lap. It’s comforting, even as Annabelle’s words echo in my head.

When Good Lookin’ jumps off me, I untangle myself from Annabelle and stand, heading to the kitchen almost on autopilot. The scrape of the can opener and the clink of the food dish give me something to focus on. A way to avoid looking too closely at the ache her words stirred up.

I watch the tabby eat, her little tail twitching with satisfaction, and I wonder what it would be like to have the kind of hope Annabelle has—to believe that happiness, even love, is waiting out there, just around the corner, if I’d only go looking. But I know better. My hopes and dreams died on a dark road eight years ago, alongside the only two people who ever really knew me.

Annabelle stretches and comes to stand beside me. Good Lookin’ finishes eating and pads off, probably back to her little bed in the corner of my room, but I don’t follow. Instead, I turn to Annabelle and pull her into a tight hug, holding on longer than I normally would.

“I’m so glad you’re happy, Belle.” I kiss her cheek. “You deserve every good thing coming your way.”

Her brows furrow, and she steps back, looking at me critically as if trying to find the cracks I’m so good at hiding. “You deserve it, too, Nova.”

I smile faintly, but it doesn’t reach my eyes. “We can both be glad I haven’t gotten what I deserve yet,” I say with a wry edge, stepping away before she can press the issue.

My bed is calling my name, and I collapse into it, not giving a fuck about closing the door, washing off my makeup or the rest of the glitter.

My bed already looks like a unicorn puked all over it.

The aftermath of many nights spent pretending to be someone else. I close my eyes, willing the thoughts away, letting the familiar numbness creep in. That’s all there is now. Surviving. Forgetting. Getting through one day, one night, until there’s nothing left to feel.

I tell myself I’m fine. I survived tonight like I’ll survive tomorrow.

But as the darkness creeps in, I wonder how much longer I can keep surviving without ever really living.

CHAPTER FOUR

Novalee

Sprawled on my bed, I stare at my phone, trying not to grin like an idiot as Ace’s text comes through.

So, you coming out tonight, Trouble?

I hesitate, my fingers hovering over the screen. God, I want to. But I made a promise to Rosalee, and for once, I actually think she’s right.

I don’t want to fuck it up with our new foster family either, now that I have a motivation to stay here.

---