Page 18 of Through You
“You should be sleeping.”
“Hmm.”
“How are you feeling?” I ask and carefully examine her features. My priority is her well-being.
“Fine.” Her fingers glide gently under my eyes. “Look at these bags. You look exhausted. Let’s go to sleep.”
“Agreed. Let me change.”
She examines the uniform and her brow furrows.
“It’s a new dress code, Mom. Nothing that concerns you, okay? I have everything under control.”
She waits for me while I change out of the stupid uniform. I put on my pajamas and lie next to her.
“Good night, Mom.”
“Good night, sweetie.”
Sleep, however, doesn’t come easy. My mind keeps replaying this evening’s events, from Artemis’s apology to that moment with Apolo in his room. What was that all about? I want to believe it’s just my imagination playing tricks, but then again Apolo is no longer small. He’s a teenage boy with raging hormones. Maybe I’ve been careless and given him mixed signals. Regardless, I need to proceed with caution, or this could get out of control.
Claudia. . . I hear the tender tone of his voice in my ear. I shake my head and stop thinking about that moment. And pray I find peace of mind and get some sleep very soon.
It’s cold. . .
I’m freezing and can’t stop trembling. The temperature is so low that my lips are cracked and my skin is dry from the cold. I hug Fred, my stuffed bear. He’s filthy and smells terrible, yet I can’t let him go. The small trailer where we live is dark. It’s been a while since the electricity was cut. I find my mother unconscious, lying on the sofa. Her hand is dangling to the side, and there are used syringes on the floor. She has on a very short skirt and a cropped top that exposes her midriff. Her red hair is long, parted in the middle, unkempt and dirty. I place my small hand on her chest.
“Mommy.”
She doesn’t move or respond.
“Mommy, I’m cold.”
I look for a blanket; I think she must be cold too because she is so underdressed. I try to be careful and cover her as much as possible. I’m startled by someone knocking hard on the door.
“Martha! Martha! Open the damn door!”
My heart is beating fast. I’m afraid and shake my mother.
“Mommy! Mommy, wake up!”
But she remains still. I scream when someone kicks the door open.
“You stupid bitch, where are you?!”A tattooed man with earrings and dressed in black storms into our small place. His eyes land on my mother.
“Oh, there you are.”
I stand in his way.
“No! Leave her alone!”
He grabs me by my hair and throws me to the side. My stomach makes contact with a side table next to the sofa. The air gets knocked out of me. I hold on to my tummy. The man picks up the syringes and throws them. He proceeds to slap my mother, who barely blinks her eyes.
“Well, well, look at this! You’ve been tripping on my merchandise.”
I struggle to get up, tears in my eyes.
“Leave her alone! Please!”
