Page 17 of Until the Ribbon Breaks

I drop to the floor and lean against the cabinets, cradling my hand against my chest as I take controlled breaths that sound more like hisses as I attempt to alleviate the throbbing ache. My face burns as I fight not to break. I can take a lot in life, but the mere mention of my father cuts deep, but what cuts even deeper is the fact that my mother allows Kurt to degrade him—her dead husband. Although this woman remains, it’s as if, somewhere along the way, my mother died too.

When my dad was alive, my mom and I had the best life. It was nothing like the one we have now, which is utter chaos. We weren’t perfect, but we were happy.

I never wanted much because my father worked hard to make sure I had everything. I remember elaborate holiday parties and spending our summers traveling the world. As soon as I turned fifteen, I had a brand-new Audi waiting for me in the driveway.

“What’s this?” I ask when he opens the front door and I see the black sports car sitting in the circular drive.

He claps his hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to need something to practice in, right?”

That was my father.

He was a surgeon who had been working several twelve-hour shifts in a row at the hospital. One night, on his way home, he fell asleep at the wheel. His car was found wrapped around a tree the next day. He was dead. That was two years ago, and our lives have never been the same since.

At one point, I begged my mom to sell this house because it was too hard being surrounded by all of the memories of him. She refused. While I fought the heartache, she gave into it.

It isn’t her fault my father died, but it is her fault she allowed the devastation to take over her life, rendering her needy and weak.

It started with alcohol. She began drinking heavily, which only made her lonelier, so she turned to men. She doesn’t go after clean, hard-working guys like my father though. It’s as if she’s drawn to losers who see her as a golden ticket, but they give her the attention she’s desperate for so she doesn’t care that they’re bottom-feeders.

She quit her job when the life insurance settlement came in. The interest off that money is more than enough to live off of.

For a while, it was just the two of us, but now there’s Kurt who shares in her dependency. I thought life couldn’t get any worse after my dad died, but this past year has proven me wrong. She’s thrown me aside because the only things that matter to her are Kurt and alcohol. She’s completely spiraled out of control, leaving me to fend for myself.

The last place I want to be is stuck in this hell, but I’m at a total loss with how to help her because she refuses to listen to me or admit that she has an alcohol problem.

So, yeah, I drink to numb myself, but she knows this. She just doesn’t care.

I have one more year until I’m out of here. My only hope is for her to clean herself up before I leave, but those hopes are disintegrating with each passing day.

HARLOW

My alarm went off a few minutes ago, but I was already awake with the same blue devils that have been tormenting me for the past few days. They were gone for a while, but they’re back.

To get out of going to school this week, I told my mother I was coming down with something. I don’t think she believed me, but she didn’t call me out on it.

She’s smart not to.

She’s gone from hardly caring to checking in on me too often, calling too often, and texting too often. It’s overbearing, but I keep my mouth shut because it would only cause her to call and text even more.

It isn’t as if she would understand even if I did tell her the truth. Plus, she’d panic and smother me when it’s the last thing I need. When I think about what has triggered this mood shift in me, it sounds so trivial. Who gets upset about the school year ending?

I do.

School keeps me busy and provides a purpose for my days. It’s something I can focus on and distract myself with. It lessens the consumption of everything else in my world that chips away at me. But knowing it’s coming to its end, I feel empty and listless.

See? It sounds stupid, doesn’t it?

I don’t expect anyone to understand how lost ... how hollow I feel. But it isn’t just school. It’s any change. I don’t like it, and with summer about to begin, I should be happy and excited, but I don’t feel things like I should—like a normal person would.

There’s a light tap on my door, and I groan. “I’m still sick, Mom.”

When the door opens and Noah steps in, I shoot up in bed. “What are you doing here?”

“Dragging your butt to school.”

“How did you get in?”

“I pulled up when your mom was leaving for work,” he says, walking over to me as a hint of a smile grows on his lips. “She seemed excited when I introduced myself, and now I’m wondering if you’ve been talking to her about me.”

---