Page 2

Love,
Mom
My heart sinks, and tears spill onto the page. I lift my head and stare at the bathroom door, my lips beginning to tremble. The air is so thick I can’t even take a breath.No …
Slowly, I take a small step towards the door, then another. My hand reaches out of its own accord and grabs hold of the round door knob. Shaking, I slowly turn it and enter into the darkness.
“Mom?” I whisper. I turn to my left and with trepidation, flip on the light.
I shouldn’t have come in here.
I should’ve listened to her.
At that moment, I feel myself leave my body. I watch myself from above as I scream at the top of my lungs. My body locks up, and I can’t move and inch from the spot I’m standing.
Red water, a white pale body, dead dull eyes staring back at me. My mother lifeless in the tub. Gone.
My mother is gone.
She’s dead.
And I couldn’t save her.
I sink to my knees as I scream, tears falling from my eyes, the letter gripped tightly in my hand.
My entire world has just been obliterated.
one
PHOENIX
Sitting on my bed,I stare at the box that I have not been able to open since I found it. I have no idea what’s in it, and I don’t care to. Not right now. The box and her locket are all I have left from my mother. Well, that and my hair and eyes. She had the same vibrant red hair as me, the same golden eyes. If it wasn’t for our obvious age difference, we could have been mistaken as twins.
Nothing matters anymore. The two people I had in my life, gone. My mother and father, the people who were supposed to be here to celebrate life with me, gone. Two people who were supposed to stand by my side, gone. Leaving me here to fight for myself.
“Phoenix! Get your ass down here! You have your therapy appointment in thirty minutes!” my Aunt Julie calls from downstairs.
So, apparently, I have an Aunt Julie. Never met the woman in my life. From what my wonderful—and I use that term loosely—aunt tells me, my mom chose my dad over her. Or something like that. She doesn’t get into specifics, and I don’t fucking ask. Because I don’t fucking care.
She has been cruel to me since the moment she found out she was now responsible for me. She yells, her words venomous, and apparently the way I eat and breathe are a problem. I guess her hatred of my mother automatically puts me on her shit list.
She lives in this giant house in Black Forest, which is about an hour east of Baybridge. Basically, it’s the rich side of town. And her house doesn’t disappoint. Her place is bigger than anything I’ve ever lived in. And it reeks of money. From the moment you step foot on the entryway under the portico, you’re greeted with a set of wooden double doors that probably cost more than a Ford Focus to make and install.
Oh, but it doesn’t stop there. The entryway is filled with luxury with its marble floors and expensive and gaudy chandeliers that sit high above you when you walk in. The wallpaper—yes, I said wallpaper—has gold flecks in it against a white background. The stairway in the grand foyer has a hand-carved wooden banister.
Or at least I’m told it’s hand-carved. Bitch could be lying. I don’t know.
The moment the car dropped me off after the move, looking up at the house that would now be my home, I hated it. I got lucky that my friends let me stay with them to finish school, but then having to move here after school ended makes me really hate it even more. There is a roundabout driveway with a giant fucking fountain in the middle of it. Sometimes I wish I could just take one of her cars and smash it into the fountain. Just because. No real reason.
“For fuck’s sake, give me two minutes! It’s down the street. It’s not like it’s an hour away!” I yell back at her.
Did I mention I hate living here? Well, I do. Every god forsaken second.
Apparently, somewhere in some will, my aunt was to be my guardian should something happen to my parents. Well, her and my uncle. Since he’s no longer with us, it’s just her. I wish I would have known, I could’ve made my thought known, because I definitely didn’t sign off on this. She’s an awful person who thankfully has no kids of her own because she doesn’t have a maternal bone in her body. I’m a problem, adisruptionto her. Thank God she didn’t procreate. Those children would have been spawns from the devil.
And the last few months have been complete hell on earth.
Because everyone is gone. And I still can’t unsee her. I close my eyes, and I’m transported back into that bathroom. It’s a nightmare I live every day and night.