The Destiny of Violet and Luke

Chapter 14

Luke

I’m a lucky son of a bitch. I really am, but only because I own my own luck, create it, cheat it. I’ve been gambling for almost a week and a half straight and I’m up to twelve hundred bucks. I probably should stop, but it’s hard once I get riding a winning streak. When I sit down at the table, I control almost everything and I realize how much I’ve missed it.

Violet hasn’t been talking to me much, spending half her time at work and the rest in her room. I try to let her be because it’s clear that’s what she wants but I’m starting to wonder if what she wants and what she needs are entirely different things I can understand to a certain extent wanting to be by myself, but she’s completely secluded herself from everyone, always alone. I’ve tried a few times to make conversation with her, just to have her back in my life and hear the sound of her voice, but she only gives me one-word responses.

I’m still sleeping on the couch, but it’s getting uncomfortable and I haven’t even unpacked my boxes yet, simply because she always has the door locked. I want to barge in there and claim my territory, but then I picture the look on her face when she opened the door after I found out about her parents and I stop myself, shut down my aggravation, reminding myself that it’s not about me and what I want.

For the last week, I’ve been on the phone with my mother every other day. I was ignoring her calls, but after the thirty-something messages cramming my voicemail, I finally started picking up. She’s in one of her moods, where she thinks someone’s after her—a neighbor, the mailman, the police. She did this a lot when I first went to college, calling me to tell me I needed to come home to protect her. She’d toned it down over the past few months, but I think when I told her I wasn’t going home for the summer, she decided to start up again. I’ve been doing my best not to ram my fist into something, reminding myself that I have a place of my own and I can do whatever I want. But every time I hear her voice it reminds me of the past, then the nightmares start up, and more anger floods me.

Friday night, Seth and I decide to throw a party to celebrate our new home and I’m glad because I really need a break from the stress of my life. Violet and Greyson are still at work, we got a living room full of people, music playing, an endless amount of drinks and week-or-so-old pot brownies Greyson made that Seth and him occasionally munch on. I asked him where he got the weed and he said from a friend, but I think Violet gave it to him, which makes me worry she might be going back to that douche. But I’m not going to ask her about it. If she’s that stupid, then she’s that stupid. Not. My. Problem. At least that’s what I keep trying to tell myself, but as always I can’t help think of my past and what drugs and dealing did to my mother—what it turned her into.

I put beer, chips, and some weird fruit platter Seth picked up out in the living room, but keep the hard stuff in the fridge for my own personal use. Then I get a game of Texas Hold ’Em going at the table, milking my lucky streak for all it’s worth. I’ve got a little too many shots of vodka in my system and the kings are starting to look like queens, but I won’t stop playing or drinking, because I’m too fucking relaxed.

There are five other guys at the table, including Seth, who’s not very good at cards, but has fun playing. One of the guys, Jonah something or other, has a blond with really bright red lips sitting on his lap, wearing this tight leather skirt and white top with no bra. She keeps giving me these looks and I’m debating whether I want to hit on her. Jonah said they weren’t dating, just friends, but it’ll still be kind of be weird if Violet walks in and I’m still not sure if I could fully go through with it and get what I’m seeking—a much-needed fuck, one where I’m in control over the situation. Then again, I shouldn’t even be thinking about Violet. We’re not together. We kissed once. So fucking what. It’s time to move on. Get over a girl that has no interest in me… a girl that’s been controlling every one of my thoughts for weeks, at least this is what I tell myself.

As I win the next hand, my intoxication blurs my thought process, and I start working my magic, flirting with the girl across from me, who tells me her name is Kenzie. After a few smiles and compliments, I get her to leave Jonah’s lap and come over to mine.

“You have gorgeous eyes,” she whispers in my ear, thankfully not giggling as she runs her fingers through my hair.

“You better not hurt her,” Jonah says with a laugh as he takes a sip of his beer and studies his cards.

Hurt her, no. Fuck her, yes. I wind my arm around her back and she wiggles her ass a little, settling into my lap, and it feels nice, but not as good as it usually does.

“Ante up, asshole,” Jonah says to me, tossing a handful of blue chips to the center of the table.

Shooting him a warning look, I reach for my chips, but pause when his eyes dart to the door. “Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite fucking person in the world. What are you doing here, beautiful?”

“And if it isn’t the biggest dipshit in the world. I live here, you moron.” The sound of Violet’s voice over the music makes me tense. I thought she wasn’t going to be home from work for at least another hour.

I wait for what seems like five hours, when really it’s probably only more like five seconds, then Violet comes walking past the table and turns into the kitchen area next to it. She’s wearing a long skirt that sits low on her hips and this black and white top that only covers to the bottom of her ribs. I can see her flat stomach, smooth skin, and a tattoo curling up and over her rib cage and all the way down below her hip in black ink. Curvy patterns form flowers and take up half her side. It’s the sexiest God damn thing I’ve ever seen… I want to rip her clothes off so I can see where the lines stop and begin.

She ambles for the fridge, hardly paying attention to the party going on and then Greyson appears at the table, looking red-eyed and smelling of cigarette smoke.

He flops down in a chair beside Seth, grabs a handful of potato chips and says, “What’d I miss?”

Seth squints his eyes as he leans in toward Greyson. “Are you…” He sniffs the air in front of Greyson’s mouth. “Are you drunk?”

Greyson shrugs, shoving the chips into his mouth. “Does it really matter?”

Seth leans back in his seat with his arm draped on the back. “You hardly ever drink.”

Greyson ignores him and starts munching on chips while my focus drifts back to Violet in the kitchen. She’s hunting in the fridge for something, her head ducked down. She flips some of her hair off her shoulder, and quickly glances in my direction, her eyes flickering from the girl on my lap to me. I expected the detached look she’s always so good at giving and I think she’s aiming for it, but for the slightest second there’s hurt in her eyes.

“So Jonah the Dipshit,” she says, yanking her gaze off me. “What have you been up to for the last few months?”

Jonah the Dipshit tips back in his chair, checking out her ass. “Not a whole hell of a lot. You still up to your usual?”

Unable to help myself, I pick a chip up and throw it at him. My drunken aim is off and it hits the wall, dinging it, and Jonah doesn’t even notice. Seth does, though, and so does Kenzie, both giving me a puzzled look.

Violet leans back from the fridge and closes the door with her hip, clutching a half-full bottle of tequila in her hand. I immediately sense something’s wrong. She says she doesn’t drink and I’ve never seen her drink before. I wonder if something happened, at work, or maybe with her parents’ case, but how am I supposed to find out what’s wrong when she won’t fucking talk to me.

“Not lately.” She unscrews the cap, her eyes steady on Jonah who looks like he thinks he’s about to get lucky. She sucks in a deep breath, then puts the mouth of the bottle up to her lips, and angles her head back, guzzling a swallow down. Her back arches and her chest angles out as she drinks. I’m pretty sure every dude at the table, besides Seth and Greyson, watches her with their jaw hanging open.

“Vixen,” Seth mutters from the chair beside me with a smirk on his face as he examines his cards.

Violet detaches the bottle from her mouth and her eyes water up as she gags. She quickly twists the cap back on and then licks the remaining tequila off her lips. “God, that burnt the shit out of my throat.”

“Ta-kill-ya will do that to you,” Jonah jokes like he’s the world’s freaking funniest comedian.

Violet tolerantly smiles at him. “Yeah, I guess so.”

Jonah grins as he sets his cards down on the table. “So I know you said you weren’t up to the usual, but could you please, pretty please make an exception for your favorite guy in the whole world. I need it badly, baby.”

Violet holds the bottle in her hand, her green eyes darting to mine before she says to Jonah, “Follow me.”

Jonah looks like he just struck gold and pushes the chair back from the table. “Sorry guys, but I think I’m going to sit the next hand out.” He scoops up his beer and circles around the table, trailing behind Violet as she breezes past me with Jonah following her like a puppy dog. They disappear into her room—our room. I stare at the door, my chest burning as I fight the desire to go after her. She’s not mine. I don’t want her to be mine. Just let her be. It’s not like she’s having sex.

“What a slut,” Seth says under his breath as he reaches for a red plastic cup full of vodka and orange juice.

“She’s not a slut,” I snap a little harsher than I mean to, throwing my cards onto the table. “You don’t know anything about her.”

Seth moves the rim of the cup to his mouth. “Neither do you,” he reminds me. “So how do you know she’s not?”

“Because I do.” But I don’t. Violet lies a lot and it’s hard to tell if what leaves her mouth is real—if anything. Maybe she’s not a virgin. Maybe she sleeps around as much as I do. Maybe she deals drugs, sleeps around, and then does crazy shit like jump out the window.

“God damn it,” I curse because this shouldn’t be bothering me. No girl ever has. Yet Violet is. I shove Kenzie off my lap and she lands on her feet but stumbles forward in her heels. She barely catches herself on the countertop.

“Rude much?” she huffs, standing up.

I rise to my feet as rage blasts through me. I have no idea what to do, but if I don’t do something soon, I’m going to burst.

Violet

Drunk, evil Violet is coming out and she’s bored. This is not a good combination. It more than likely means I’m going to go looking for trouble. And trouble for me usually means doing stuff like jumping out of two-story windows. As much as I love tasting death, the last time I got drunk when I was feeling like this, I ended up actually getting hit by a car. I broke my leg, too, and Preston was not happy about it. I tried to do my best to explain to him why I did it and he told me I was going to be one of those people who wouldn’t be able to drink, not without severe consequences. I hate that I’m thinking about Preston and that I kind of, sort of, maybe miss him a little and the life I’d built for myself with him, because before the whole drama/groping thing it was somewhat comfortable. And I’ve never had comfortable before.

“Hey, do you mind if I light up right here?” Jonah the Dipshit asks as he settles on my bed, crossing his legs. He’s one of my regulars who’s slightly annoying and gets on my nerves, but I’m bored and need a distraction. And I’m fairly certain Luke thinks I came back here to do something with him, by the jealous look on his face. I don’t like how pleased I am at the idea that he might be jealous. But he has no right to be, considering he had that skank on his lap who has so many curves her skirt and shirt couldn’t even conceal them.

“Do whatever you want.” I shrug, sifting through the songs on my laptop. The song titles are hard to read though and the longer I squint at them, the more bored and restless I get. Finally, I randomly click on one and “Make Damn Sure” by Taking Back Sunday starts playing. Then I decide to search out Stan Walice, see if I can get any information on him. Go kick his ass. It’d make me feel better. I run a search on him and add Channel 8, then squint at the screen. It’s hard to tell which one is him… they all look blurry.

“God, this shit smells good.” Jonah grins as he slips his pipe out of his pocket. He’s fairly good-looking for a pothead, and not rich like most of my regular clients. He has a beanie on his head, a fraying leather band on his wrist, and a few holes in his jeans. I have the lamp on and I can see his pupils are dilated. He takes the remainder of the weed out of my prescription bottle and packs it into his pipe. I was sort of surprised when Greyson gave it back to me, only taking a little for his pot brownies. Most people would have taken it all.

Jonah says something to me as he frees the smoke from his chest, but I only crank the music up and continue my search for information on Stan Walice. But after a while I give up because the blurriness and brightness of the screen is stinging my eyes. I move the computer aside, then dig for some gum in the nightstand drawer, but all I have is a bag of suckers. I take one out and pop it into my mouth to get rid of the nasty taste of alcohol embedded in my taste buds. Then I lie down on the bed and gaze up at the ceiling. I can’t stop thinking about that reporter and his questions. What if he shows up again? What if I can’t handle it? Am I handling it right now? There’s a calm-before-the-storm feeling inside my chest, waves ripping, white tipped, ready to rise higher as they soar for the shore. The question is where is the shore? Me? Someone else? I need to do something. I’m too unsettled.

I crank the music down and sit up as Jonah takes another hit from his pipe and smoke fills the room. I pull my knees up and watch him toke over and over again as I suck on the sucker. He says nothing, but keeps eyeing the sucker in my mouth, or my mouth—I can’t tell for certain. I bounce back and forth on whether I want to kick him out so I can get my adrenaline rush solo or do I want him around? Could I use him for anything? When I kissed Luke it’d felt good and distracting. I wonder if Jonah could give me the same effect. I could try it, because I kind of need it tonight. Need to forget about my life. About my job. About Stan, the stupid reporter.

“What? Why are you looking at me like you want to fuck me?” Jonah asks with a grin, a cloud of smoke snaking from his lips.

“I’m not.” I kneel up on the bed and sweep my hair to the side as I inch closer, pulling the sucker out of my mouth. My shirt’s ridden up and Jonah takes in my bare skin with a lazy grin on his face. I could kiss him and find out if Jonah is as good of a distraction as Luke. I’ve never been one for kissing, but maybe something’s changed, maybe I could—

Someone hammers on the door. “Violet, open the fucking door.” It’s Luke’s voice and it’s full of anger.

Jonah’s eyes bulge as he coughs on a breath full of weed. “Oh shit, is Luke your boyfriend?”

I roll my eyes as Luke bangs on the door again. “In the year that I’ve been dealing to you have you ever seen me with a boyfriend?”

He shrugs, flicking the lighter. “No, but I don’t know anything about you—no one does.”

I open my mouth to agree with him, when Luke starts banging on the door over and over again. Shaking my head, I get up from the bed, tripping over the bottom of my skirt when I step on it, and brace myself on the door. Luke bangs on the door again and I jerk it open. He’s still in the middle of banging on the door and his fist flies toward me. I don’t move and he barely stops in time, right before he hits me in the face. He lowers his fist to his side, looking startled, but then the look vanishes and he pushes past me and into the room.

“Get the fuck out,” he says to Jonah in this calm, unsettling tone as he nods his head at the door.

Jonah moves the pipe away from his mouth. “What the hell’s your problem? I’m just sitting here smoking a bowl. I didn’t touch her.”

Luke walks up to the bed and grabs the pipe from Jonah’s hands. “You’re my problem. Now get the fuck out.”

Jonah gets up from the bed. He’s shorter than Luke, but thicker in the body. Still he does what he’s asked and heads for the door, pausing before he steps out. “Can I at least have my pipe back?”

Luke shoves him out the door, and then he tosses the pipe at him. Jonah misses it and it hits the floor, spilling singed bud all over the carpet. Jonah curses as Luke slams the door and locks it. I’m tingling from head to toe as I wait for him to turn around, but he doesn’t, he just leans his head against the door.

He has on a black shirt and jeans that are just tight enough to make his ass look really nice. Maybe his ass just looks really nice though. I’ve never really paid attention to it until now. I put the sucker into my mouth, tilting my head to the side to get a better look. When he turns toward me, I don’t even bother trying to hide the fact that I was just checking him out. I’m drunk and careless and every blasé personality trait of mine is amplified.

He rubs his hand over his cropped brown hair, his arm muscles rippling. “You’re driving me fucking crazy.”

“You say that a lot.” I roll the sucker in my mouth and his eyes dart to it.

He stares at me, his eyes large and radiating desire. “Are you doing that on purpose?” he asks with a feral look as he nods his head at the sucker in my mouth.

The sucker clicks on my teeth. “No, I had the taste of tequila on my breath and this is the only thing I had in the room that’d cover it up.”

He slumps back against the door, looking worn out. “I bet Jonah was loving it.”

My lips turn upward around the sucker. “I’m sure he was.”

He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I swear to God you’re trying to get under my skin.”

I pull the sucker out of my mouth and chuck it into the trash. “I’m not trying to do anything to you. You’re the one who came barging in here.”

His eyes open, cold, sharp, and the look in them throws me back. And excites me. As the excitement mixes with the alcohol, I completely forget about everything. Where I am. Who I am. What I want.

He steps forward beside the head of the bed and I’m standing by the foot. “I was banging on the door because I was afraid of what you were doing in here.”

“What? Dealing drugs? That’s what I do, Luke. I already told you this.”

“Well, you shouldn’t be… and that’s not what I was thinking…” His legs stretch as he strides toward me. “I thought you were having sex.”

I want to back away from him, because heat and passion are pouring off of him as much as the scent of tequila and vodka is pouring off the both of us. “It’s not really any of your business if I was.”

“Yeah it is. Everything you do is my business.”

I snort a laugh. “How do you figure?”

He crosses his arms as he stops just short of me. “Because you brought me into your life, moved in with me…” He trails off, his focus drifting to my mouth. “Kissed me.”

I laugh and it’s my drunken laugh, high pitched and goofy sounding. “I kissed you. Get your story straight. You’re the one who smashed your lips into mine.”

“I didn’t smash my lips into yours,” he says hotly, blinking his eyes into focus as he leans in. “We kissed each other together and you liked it. Admit it.”

I shake my head in denial. “I won’t.”

“Say it.”

“No way.”

“Oh my God,” he growls, shaking with irritation as he clenches his hands. “I can’t win with you. I try and try and try to get something from you—anything—and you won’t give it to me.”

“I’m so sorry that I don’t let you win with me like all the other girls you sleep with,” my inebriated mouth says. “There’s the door.” I point my finger at it. “You can leave whenever you want.”

He shakes his head and lets out a piercing laugh. “This was supposed to be our room, but you took it over.”

“I didn’t take it over, you just won’t come in here.”

He pauses and when he speaks again, he’s calmer. “Is that what you’re really waiting for? For me to just come in here? Because it seemed like you wanted your space.”

“Yes, it’s what I was waiting for,” I stammer. Actually stammer. I never stammer. Through our little code talk I’ve somehow managed to lose my confident voice and admit to him that I’ve been waiting around for him to come to me.

He pauses, looking startled, horrified, the sedated, his eyes darkening as his eyelashes lower. “Say it again.”

“Say what?”

He slides his foot across the floor, stepping closer, and his knee bumps against mine. “That you were waiting for me to come in here.”

I shake my head, pushing my knee up against his. “I wasn’t.”

His gaze flicks to our knees touching. “You just said you were.”

“Well, I’m a liar.”

“I know, but you weren’t lying.”

I don’t say anything at all. I think about walking by him, leaving the house, heading down the road, hitchhiking to the tallest building in the city. Get to the roof and soar. Instead I stay put, because the haziness in my head is making it okay to stay here with him. I wait eagerly for him to do whatever it is he’s going to do. Yell at me. Leave me. Kiss me.

His arm comes out to the side and curls around toward my hip. I start to open my mouth as his fingers brush my skin and enfold around my waist, but suddenly I lose it and lean in, kissing him. The second our lips touch, I feel safe from all the bad in my life. I blame it on the tequila. But I’m pretty sure it’s not the tequila that makes me do what I do next, only the passion I feel in the moment. As I part my lips hoping he’ll slip his tongue into my mouth, I eliminate the space between our bodies, crushing myself up against him, then I raise my leg to hitch it over his hip. There’s a pause of reluctance on Luke’s part and then he lets out a husky groan and everything abruptly starts moving in fast motion. His hot palm slides down my hip to my thigh, fingers stabbing through the fabric of my skirt as he grips my leg and scoops me up. I hook my legs around his, locking my ankles as his tongue slides deep into my mouth. He presses up against me, moaning again as he steers us around toward the bed. Seconds later we fall. Together. We land on the mattress and it becomes concave, conforming to the weight of our bodies. We get tangled in the sheets and blanket, our legs entwined, hands all over each other, bodies writhing in harmony. I keep making these little whimpering noises, but it can’t be right. I don’t whimper.

Luke pulls his mouth away as I whimper for the fifth or eleventh time. He scans my face as I pant loudly, my hands cupping his shoulder blades, the warmth of his skin flowing through the fabric of his shirt.

“Why’d you stop?” I ask, breathless.

“I have no idea,” he mumbles then seals his lips to mine, gathering my arms in his hands and pinning them above me.

I gasp, the desire flooding through me more powerful than my need for an adrenaline rush. I’ve got plenty of it in me now. Pounding at the sensitive parts of my body, throbbing in my thighs. He devours me with his mouth as he traps my wrists together and presses me down against the bed. I kiss him back with more emotion behind it than I’ve ever let myself feel before, my fingers tracing up and down his back, through his hair as my back bows up and I writhe against him. His free hand wanders down my body, then up my skirt, heading for the top of my thigh. It’s not the furthest I’ve gone before, but the furthest I’ve gone with someone I have feelings for and the emotion behind it is becoming too much.

I start to say stop, but then his finger slips inside the edge of my panties and the words are stolen out of my lips by the startling, yet amazing tingles coursing through every part of my body. I feel like I’m going to burst and the sensation only increases when he slips a finger inside me and then another. I cry out in bliss as he starts moving them, my hips bucking against his hand, my body seeking more. He kisses me passionately before his mouth delves downward, his hand leaving my arms, freeing me from his hold.

I keep my arms above my head though, my eyes shut as I gasp for air. His other hand shoves my top up. He yanks my bra down and my nipples spring free, seconds later his mouth covers my breast. I’m gone. Drowning in a sea of desire and alcohol, falling helplessly as I lose control and my body ignites. I cry out again as I dig my nails into my palms, seeking a release from the adrenaline rush I’ve been craving all night. I feel myself come apart, falling into helplessness, losing control over everything as everything inside me breaks apart and my mind drifts away. When I return back to reality, I’m exhausted, drained, but content. Luke’s no longer sucking on my nipple, but lying beside me with his elbow propped against the mattress and his head resting against his hand. He doesn’t say anything, just stares down at me, his eyes glossy, his face crammed with uncertainty, like he’s unsure—or maybe even regrets—what just happened.

“I’m sorry I had my phone off when you called me,” he says quietly. “I always turn my phone off when I’m playing poker.”

I want to tell him why I was upset, but even drunk, the idea of opening Pandora’s box stuffed with my past doesn’t seem like a good idea.

“I’m sorry I took over the room.” I offer him a tired smile.

A small smile graces his lips. “It’s fine. I was sort of intentionally sleeping out on the couch anyway, because it felt like you needed your space.”

“I thought I did… because that’s what I usually do…” I trail off, blinking through my tiredness. “But I’m not so sure anymore.”

He’s quiet for a moment. “If you need me… then I’m here.”

I take breath as he reaches over and then brushes his fingers along my ribs. He pulls my shirt back down, covering me up. It feels like the nicest thing anyone’s done for me and I feel like hugging him, but my arms are too tired.

I yawn, the drowsiness of the alcohol taking over me. “I think I’m going to go to bed,” I mumble as I flip over and practically crawl up to my pillow and collapse onto my stomach. He sits up on the edge of the bed and stares at the door. “You can go out there if you want.” I yawn again. “But I wish you’d stay here… with me…” I can barely register what I’m saying, but all I know is that when I’m in his arms, it seems like all the bad is gone.

Luke

I have never done that before. Never gave a girl everything and took nothing in return. I’d always been selfish and that was kind of the point. I wanted to be selfish instead of being walked all over.

After Violet falls asleep, telling me she wishes I’d stay with her, I sit on the bed with my head in my hands as I decide what to do. I’m seriously considering lying down with her, holding her, falling asleep because I’m exhausted. Mentally. But I can’t sort through my thoughts filled with the way she moaned and how all I wanted to do was make her moan again. Then she came and the look in her eyes was so content, so sexy, so amazing. There was so much inside emotion in her at the moment—pleasure, desire, want, need—and it was fascinating to watch because she never shows anything. It gave me the biggest hard on I’ve ever had. The next step would have been to fuck her, take back the control, get what I want out of it, yet I couldn’t. She’s drunk. I’m drunk. It’s not right and I don’t want to do that to her—that’s not how I want things to be between us.

Shaking my head, I get up and go to the door, leaving the room and her sleeping on the bed because I’m not sure I can contain myself. I feel bad for leaving, but at the same time I’m too restless to stay.

The card game is still going on, but a lot of the people have cleared out of the apartment. “Have fun?” Seth asks with speculation in his eyes as he looks up at me from his cards. Greyson has his arm around him, examining his cards. When he peers up at me, there’s a concerned look in his eyes that makes me wonder if he knows something about Violet, like maybe what happened to her parents.

“As much as I ever do.” I round the table, noting Jonah and Kenzie have bailed, and head for the fridge. I grab a bottle of tequila and swig it down, over and over again, letting the burn sink in, hoping to regain the person I used to be—the one I built so I could avoid being owned and controlled by someone, like my mom used to do all the time to me. But can’t I find him anymore. I’m turning into someone else who I don’t think I like unless I’m kissing Violet, and then it seems okay to be this way, letting go, giving her what she wants, not being the one in control, the kind of guy who does stuff for other people, who lets people into his fucked-up life.

I want Violet more than I’ve ever wanted anyone. I want everything I’ve been avoiding since I turned sixteen and I no longer care that I’m not thinking just about myself. I want Violet so bad it burns under my skin fiercer than the alcohol burns at my throat.

At the end of the seemingly endless swallow, I still feel the overpowering urge to go back to the room—to her—so I do. I climb into the bed and nuzzle up against her, holding on to her, lying beside her, like she asked me to do. But I’m not even sure who I do it for.

I sleep with a girl for the very first time and the surprising thing is I enjoy it for a moment until I shut my eyes. Then, as usual, the past catches up with me.

It’s dark outside, really late, but I can hear the boom of fireworks going off as they sprinkle the sky. My room is dark, but I can’t sleep because I can hear my mom banging around in the kitchen. I’m about to get up and see what she’s doing, because she’s been acting really weird lately, taking all these pills and snorting things up her nose. But then I hear my door creak open and someone walks inside.

“Lukey, I need you.” She strokes my head as I lay in bed, pretending to be asleep. “Wake up.”

I open my eyes to the moonlight glowing through my room, the sounds of fireworks exploding in the distance, and my mother sitting on the edge of my bed.

“What do you want?” I ask, rubbing my tired eyes.

She stands up and wanders over to the window, staring outside at the backyard. “I think we’re being watched.”

I sit up. “What?”

She turns around and holds her hand out to me. “Come with me, sweetie.”

I shake my head and let out a frustrated breath, but finally, I get to my feet. She sometimes acts weird like this and it’s annoying, but tonight she seems more intense, her breathing really loud, her hand gripping mine too tightly as she hauls me out of the room. She drags me into the living room and we sink down onto the couch wrapped in plastic. I wait in fear for what she’s going to do next, noticing the blood on her shirt and hands for the first time. Finally, she wraps her arms around me and starts to cry.

“I did something wrong,” she sobs, rocking back and forth.

“Please, just let me go, Mom,” I practically beg, because her grip is hurting me.

“Lukey, I can’t let you go. I need you.” She hugs me tighter and there’s blood on her clothes. It’s warm and feels wrong as it seeps into my clothes.

“Mom,” I say, my voice trembling as I feel so weak inside because I don’t want her holding me right now but I’m not strong enough to get away. Everything feels wrong. Her. Me. The blood on her clothes. “Why do you have blood on your clothes?”

She sobs hysterically, pressing her cheek against the top of my head. She starts singing under her breath, one of the songs she wrote for my dad when he was leaving her.

“Lean into me. Lean into me. Take. Help me. I need to understand. Help me. I can’t do this without you.” She sings it over and over again, all night, refusing to let me go, and I feel smaller and smaller with each word until I’m so small I barely exist.