Page 125 of Did They Break You

Maya

I’ll be with the girls, two down from you. Cabin C4.

I roll my eyes and thumb through my messages to Remi.

Happy birthday, baby.

Just fucking talk to me.

You can’t hide forever.

I called her, too, after she stormed out. I tried to reason with her that morning, but she was hysterical, and Storm grabbed my arm, told me to let her go.

I fucking called her.I can count on one finger the number of people I call.Tristan.That’s the person. I spoke to him this morning, made sure he was good because Dad is leaving for work, but Tristan is going to his friend’s house. I confirmed it with Dad, and I feel like I’ll be able to relax this weekend.

Or I would have, if Remi hadn’t seen those texts on my phone.

Mom’s name, Linda, splashes across the screen and I decline the call. She’s called several dozen times, no doubt to try and make up for her shitty behavior the last time she was at my house, but I’m sick of her shit. Of her patterns. Lose her mind, hit me, grovel.

I give in every time, because she’s my mom.

I used to try to convince myself that she isn’t all bad. She provided for us. She loved me in her own way, and it’s not like she ever hurt us too badly.

She’s not all bad.

But fuck, maybe she actually is.

I ignored her at the away game last weekend too. I don’t even know why she bothered to show up.

Storm gets in the truck, slamming the door shut and throwing a duffel bag full of clinking bottles in the back of the cab. He tosses my lighter—black and orange—on the center console, next to the pack of cigarettes I only smoke when I’m stressed as hell.

Which would benow.

“Heard from her?” he asks me as I take a breath, dropping my phone down on the console and picking up a cigarette and the lighter.

“No.” I don’t look at him as I light up, closing my eyes on the inhale and setting down the lighter.

“She might be there. At Grim.” Storm’s tone is even, and I don’t know how he feels about that. We didn’t talk about her breakdown.

Just like we didn’t talk about that night.

Aside from making sure we all had the same story, there was nothing to talk about.

Now though, I’m not so sure that’s true.

I was fucking trashed.

I was trashed.

But she was too. And she’s bled, just like I have.

Fuck.

I slam my fist against the wheel, taking another drag from the cigarette and turning my head as I open my eyes, exhaling through my cracked window. The sun is up, and it’s a beautiful Friday andI want to spend it with Remi.

What is wrong with me.What the fuck is happening to me?

“She won’t,” I tell Storm.

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