Page 14 of Heart of a Rebel

She shakes her head, and her greasy ponytail swishes around with the movement. “Just a drink or two, that’s all.”

“Mom.” I plant my hand on her knee, and she finally stops bouncing it.

Looking into her eyes, I wish I was enough to make her see she’s worth more than this.

“I was having a rough day,” Mom says, like that’s a valid excuse to shoot your brain out into the universe. “Bonnie’s being a bitch, says they aren’t hiring, but I saw the sign.”

Bonnie probably is hiring, but I’m not surprised she turned Mom away after the past couple of chances Bonnie’s given her. As if skimming from the register wasn’t bad enough, I’m pretty sure my mom trying to fuck Bonnie’s husband ruined any future considerations.

“You can’t disappear into this shit every time you have a bad day.” I squeeze her knee, feeling it twitching.

Mom leans forward on her elbows and shakes her head again. She can barely sit still and it’s hard to watch.

“You’ll never understand.” She rolls her eyes and tips her head back.

She’s probably right about that. I willneverunderstand. The drugs, the alcohol, the sex. All tools everyone around me uses to disappear.

Between watching my mom fall on and off the wagon and witnessing the band burn through bottles of booze and women, the appeal is lost on me. Everyone is searching for something to numb the pain, not realizing that all it does is drag them further into whatever they’re trying to escape.

“Stay.” Mom plants her hands over mine and gives me a squeeze. “I want to spend some time with my daughter.”

It’s a battle not to roll my eyes. She might love me, but that’s not why she wants me here. I’m a pawn she uses to convince men to give her another hit of whatever she’s fucked up on. It’s a game I’m in no mood to play.

“I’m heading to a friend’s house. But you should get some sleep.”

You should clean yourself up.

Get it together.

Stop being such a fucking mess.

But I don’t say any of those things because they won’t do any good.

Mom rolls her head back and closes her eyes. “Fine, go.”

I’m not sure when I started feeling like the parent in our relationship. Maybe it was when I was eight, fetching her peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and cigarettes because she was coming down and didn’t want to get out of bed. Maybe it was when Sebastian started working at fifteen to try and pay the bills she wasn’t, and I was stuck at home babysitting her, so her friends wouldn’t steal shit while he was at work. Maybe it’s the way it’s always been, and I’m just now realizing it.

It doesn’t really matterwhen, just that it is. And I’m no longer expecting it to change.

“Call me if you need anything.” I stand up.

She nods her head just barely, and I’d think she’s falling asleep if she wasn’t still twitching.

I wish I could hate her like Sebastian does because it would make all of this easier to deal with. I wish I could resent the fact that she’s never been a good mother or the fact that I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to accept love because of her.

But I can’t.

Because no matter what she does, she’s my mom. And her love might be shallow, but mine runs deep—through every aching part of me.

The music changes as I leave the house, kicking the beat up a notch and sending my stomach into a tailspin. I step outside and the yard is littered with people. Watching, calculating, waiting.

I avoid their gazes as I make my way to my car, but one figure in particular towers in the shadows at a distance, sending a shiver up my spine. I reach into my purse and grab onto my pepper spray, holding it for good measure.

If the party isn’t enough to set me on edge, the neighborhood does a good job of it.

As I reach for the car’s door handle, my gaze falls to one of my tires and my insides deflate. The rim’s touching the ground and the car is sagging.

“Fuck.” I breathe out.

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