Page 3 of All That Glitters

It’s not fair. I’m just a fucking kid, and now I have no one.

I cry until my eyes are sore and my head’s pounding. A part of me wants to stay here next to her and disappear, the way she did. But the thought of letting her down somehow hurts even worse now that she’s gone.

Sitting up, I wipe my eyes before climbing to my feet. I tug the blankets up higher, hating how cold she feels.

I stand there, not sure what to do next. I look over at the photo of us together on her nightstand and frown. Leaning against it is a letter, my name written on the front in my mother’s messy handwriting.

I reach for it, my hands shaking as I open it and start to read.

Hazel,

I hate that you’re reading this because it means I’m gone.

I know I wasn’t the best mother. You deserved better than me. I’m sorry the choices I made will affect the ones you’ll have to make now too.

I gave up wishing and dreaming a long time ago, but if I could, I’d give every single one of them to you, sweet girl.

I won’t lie to you, the next few years will be hard. You’ll hate me, and some days you’ll even be glad I’m dead.

I sob at her words, swiping away the tears that blur my vision.

It’s okay, baby. You can hate me. Be mad,but let it fuel you because one day,you’ll come to a crossroads,and you’ll need everything you’ve learned. Every trick I showed you and every ounce of courage you’ve got to help you choose the right path. I don’t know what you’ll face,but I know the easy way is usually the wrong one.

Be strong. Be brave. Take the hard path. Crawl uphill on your hands and knees if you have to, but keep going, because I promise you the air is better at the top than it is down here in the gutter.

Until then, watch, learn, and remember what I taught you. And know that even though I didn’t tell you enough, I loved you. I loved you from the second you were placed in my arms.

You, Hazel, are and will always be the best thing I ever did.

Love,

Mom

P.S. Pack a bag with the things you can’t live without,then call the number at the bottom of this page. Ask for Rock. He’s expecting your call.

I press the letter to my chest and let the rest of my tears fall. I take a few deep breaths, and when I can breathe again, I wipe my eyes and place the letter back on the nightstand.

I walk back to my room and pull a bag from the closet. I grab my birth certificate and look down at my father’s name. For a second, I wonder if I should try to find him. But if he wanted me, he would’ve come for me. I shove the paper into my bag, alongwith everything else I might need. Then I carefully add a few of my favorite photos.

I look around the trailer and fight back more tears. There’s no time for crying now. Taking a deep breath, I find my mom’s cell phone and head back to her room. I walk over to her nightstand and call the number on the bottom of the letter before folding it and adding it to my bag.

As I wait for someone to answer, I pick up the photo from the nightstand and stare at my mom’s smiling face. She’s looking at the camera with baby me in her lap, the locket she always wears clasped in my hand.

A gruff voice barks in my ear, jolting me out of the moment.

“Yeah?”

“Um... hi. Is this Rock?”

“Who wants to know?”

“I... um. I’m Hazel. My mom told me to call. She’s dead, and she said you’d help me,” I choke out.

There’s a pause, then I hear movement. “You Jenny’s girl?”

“Yeah,” I whisper, even though I’m nobody’s girl anymore.

“I’m on my way.”