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prologue
“Mom! Mom! Are ya home?”I burst through the front door and throw my backpack onto the floor next to the front closet of our small ass apartment.
Letting out a sigh, I look around at what we currently call home. The place we live in is a dump. The floor’s all cut up, the carpet’s discolored, and the ceiling is covered in water stains. It’s not the best place to live, but we make the most of our eight-hundred-square-foot one-bedroom apartment.
It’s a shit town in Massachusetts, but Baybridge is now our home. It’s a small town a couple hours away from the ocean. Not that I care about that; I’ve never been a fan of water, and I can’t swim. There’s plenty of drugs and crime that run through the streets of Baybridge. Graduation rates are low, and people work quite a few jobs to make ends meet. It’s a lower income town, but it’s where we can afford to live. And as long as Mom and I have each other, that’s all that matters.
I stop for a moment to see if I can hear her maybe in her bedroom, but the house is silent. I shrug, throwing on my headphones and turning up someEvanescence. She probably got an extra shift at the diner, which means she’ll bring home something for dinner.
I head over to the ratty brown couch we picked up from Goodwill and flop onto it. This couch also serves as my bed since we live in a one-bedroom. My mom deserves to get a good night’s rest on a bed after all she’s been through, after all she does to try to keep a roof over our heads. Our lives were destroyed by the loss of my father. My mother was destroyed by losing the love of her life.
This heap of fabric isn’t my comfy bed in my own room, it’s a lumpy reminder of where we have fallen.
Picking up my cheap as fuck phone, I scroll through Instagram and mindlessly like the posts. I’m seriously technology challenged, so music and social media are the extent of my world. Outside of that, God help me.
I could sit and do some homework, but I’m already weeks ahead in it all. It’s April, and my junior year is almost over. It’s been a bit stressful not knowing what I’m going to do after high school, though.
I miss my old life.
I miss my dad.
Mom and I have been left in ruins since he died, or as the police said, killed himself. Since it was ruled a suicide, we were denied payout on his life insurance. We fought them, but with barely any money, we couldn’t prove otherwise.
We never believed what they ruled it as; we never could imagine my father, Trevor Hayes, taking his own life. He was happy, and he loved us. We had a perfect little family. Mom and I were his world, he would never leave us. Never take his own life.
But that’s what they told us the accident was, a suicide. That he purposely used his vehicle as a vessel to end it all.
My heart squeezes at the thought that something was that bad that he felt he had to end his life. Still, I don’t believe it. It’s bullshit. What’s worse is that lie has completely destroyed my mom.
The light in her eyes has dimmed, her skin has paled, and her mouth is always turned down in a permanent frown. She walks around here saying little and barely surviving on the minimum it will take to just make it through the rest of life. The rest of her life without the man she loves. With me as the constant reminder of what she created with my father.
She doesn’t ever talk about him, though. We exist in our new lives without thinking or talking about our old one. It hurts, but I worry more about how she feels than how I do.
Because when I eventually leave for college, she’ll be alone. Alone in her thoughts, alone in this shit hole, alone in existence.
I look at the time and see that it’s close to six. I should probably get to work on the rest of the homework I need to finish for the semester. I have finals I need to study for and a couple of papers to write.
My stomach growls as I reach for my books. I need some study food. I pick up my phone and shoot a text to my mom.
Me: Hey, can you bring me home a bacon cheeseburger please? Extra pickles. Lots of round hamburger pickles. Lots. Please. And thank you.
I hit send and wait for her response. As I pick up my backpack to take out my math book, I hear a phone dinging in the back of the apartment.
Huh, maybe she isn’t at work.
Standing up, I throw my backpack on the couch and take the short walk through the hall to the bedroom. I push open the door and see that the bed is still unmade, and clothes are scattered all over the floor. The nightstands are littered with water bottles and used tissues. There’s a shoe box on the bed that I’ve never seen before, but I turn around and survey the rest of the room. It’s in complete disarray. Drawers open, lights tipped over, and a garbage can on its side with the contents spilled everywhere.
My eyes catch an envelope on her dresser with my name on it. Mom’s writing. I grab it and slowly peel it open, my stomach in complete knots and the lump in my throat growing by the second. I take a deep breath before reading the letter.
My dearest little bird,
I’m sorry. I’ve let you down. Everything has changed, and I can’t deal with this life anymore. So, I need you to fly on without me. Thrive. Become the woman I know you were meant to be. Take the box on my bed and keep it safe. It’s yours. Please keep it from prying eyes. It’s our life.
I love you more than you will ever understand. I’m so sorry for everything. I wish I could have been stronger for you.
Please call 9-1-1 and don’t go into the bathroom. Just stay away. I don’t want you to have that memory. Remember the family we were.
I love you, Phoenix. I’ll be watching over you.