Page 2 of End Of Never

Today, something big happened. I made a friend, and when I walked in the door, there was no one to tell. Being home alone used to scare me, but I don’t cry ‘cause I’m not scared anymore; I only cry ‘cause I’m alone.

Chapter 3

Lilla

Present

When I wake up in the morning, my phone is dead, and the earbud that promised me a better tomorrow has fallen out onto my sheets. When my dad is home, this is how it goes. They scream and yell, then they make up. How do I know? Well, we have already established that the walls are thin.

Heading into the living room, I see my mom sitting on top of a suitcase, trying with all her might to zip it. Comical, really, considering the heaviest part of my mom is the fake tits my dad bought her after his big promotion. “Mom?” She jumps off the suitcase as if a bomb detonated under her ass.

My dad walks in, nose to his phone and dressed for success. I have never seen my dad in anything other than a dress shirt and dress pants, and his shoes are always shining. “Daddy? Are you leaving again?” The words that came out next were deadpan.

“We are leaving.” He turns to the kitchen, leaving me absolutely appalled.

“Daddy, my friends are here, my life is here?” My mom finally struts over, her eyes filled with joy.

“Oh, pet, you have it wrong. We are leaving, as in your Daddy and me. You're going to hold down the fort.” Here are the words that burn like acid, only there is no wall separating the sting. Can she feel my heart breaking? Does she see the pain in my eyes when her words slice through my skin? Would they both leave me?

I shake my head. “You’re both leaving? Where are you going? When will you be back? Why do you both have to go?” With each question, my chest grows tighter, and my mother jumps up and down, clapping her hands.

What the fuck is happening? I have always been alone, and I’m not sure what will be worse—being surrounded by the two people who should love you the most, and feeling alone. Or being alone, because the two people who were supposed to love you the most chose to leave you behind. Everything is happening so fast, I used to wonder if there would come a day when my dad would decide to leave us. I never thought there would come a time when they both decided to leave me.

“Yes, isn’t it wonderful? I’m sick of being in this house with no one to talk to. Your Daddy is taking me to work with him. If we don't travel, you don't get all these nice things. You should be more grateful. Don’t get all dramatic; you know how much I miss him. Don’t you dare ruin this for me. We're leaving you the credit card, and you’ll have to figure it out.” Of fucking course I do, because what other choice do I have? Without giving me time to process or respond, she grabs her purse, and they walk out the door.

She just left. No goodbye. No cold hug. She’s not even trying to pretend to love me; there was nothing but a new wound, another slice to the heart. How many until I eventually bleed out? Deep down, I knew my mom didn’t care for me; she never wanted to be a mom. She wanted to live the big life with my dad. Fancy dinners with the top wines, seated around big investors, all dressed in their finest suits and dresses. She wanted the life of a trophy wife, and my dad has finally made that possible.

Watching them leave, I could feel my heart pull and break. I get it now. There was no love. No hope. I was always going to be alone, whether they were here or not.

I was born into a world where I'll never be enough.

My dad steps back in, grabbing the last suitcase. “The credit card is in the junk drawer with the rest of the shit we don’t care about. Come on–enough with the dramatics, you're seventeen years old. It’s our time now.” Then he slams the door.

Who is Lilla Lane?

Invisible and alone.

I wait for them to rush back and tell me they are fucking around. It wasn’t until the car pulled out of the driveway that I realized they, in fact, were not fucking around.

They left.

I have been alone all my life. I can’t remember a time when I felt love or happiness within these walls. It took me years to stop jumping on that stupid rug outside.

Stomping over to the front door, I swing it open, taking out all my frustration on the hinges. My rapid pulse hits hard, making my chest rise and fall with force. There it sits, that stupid, faded, and frayed rug, much like my patience right now. Reaching down, I grab the damn thing with so much force that dust and dirt fly off. I walk it to the edge of the woods just off the property, and chuck it as hard as I can—fury sparks a war within, as it dares to fall back at my feet. FUCKING HELL. YOU LYING STUPID PIECE OF SHIT. Ripping it off the ground once more, I fling it back and throw that fucker so hard I know it’s going to soar, and soar it does. The rug flies through the tall oak trees like the magic fucking carpet, before landing in the leaves. I can feel my anger boiling at the sight of it lying there.

Out of breath, I stomp over to where it lies, and this time, when I jump on it, there are no wishes, just pure unadulterated rage. I jump so hard my feet sting, and I can feel the vibrations of my rage all the way up to my teeth, but I don’t stop. Happy Home. Happy Home. Happy Home. LIES, fucking lies. The moment I stop jumping, a single tear falls from my eye. NO. Stop it, Lilla. We don’t cry. We don’t cry over things we can figure out. I kick leaves over the rug and run back home.

Standing in front of the junk drawer, I fling it open because jumping and losing my shit outside wasn’t enough. On top of the ‘junk’ is a Platinum card. Scoffing as I toss it on the counter, not missing what’s under it—multiple, large white envelopes. I grab the small stack, knowing precisely what they are, my school pictures. Fanning through them, the one that catches my eye is my fifth-grade picture.

One of the worst days of my life, hidden in the drawer.

Chapter 4

Lilla

Age 10

Today will be different. Today will be a good day.