Page 95 of Before We Break

Picture windows carry the moonlight inside, illuminating Clio’s peaceful expression. Her lashes flutter against freckled cheeks, her pink lips parted with each exhalation, and her delicate fingers curl around her blanket.

I drag the harsh pen over Clio’s strawberry-speckled paper, forming the basic outline of her face. It’s not my preferred medium, but I need something to distract me. If I think too deeply, I’ll lose myself in the fantasy of a life that can never be. One with Clio Marsden at the center and me orbiting around her as gravity demands.

Want is starting to feel an awful lot like need, and my resolve is crumbling. It won’t be long before I’ve lost all conviction. I can’t forget the promises I made, the words I inked into my skin years ago. It’s the only way I can protect myself from wandering down the same path that destroyed my family. Love is a death sentence, and though I don’t fear the end, I can’t subject my family to the destruction it leaves behind.

When I’m finished with the sketch, I tear off the page and stuff it into my pocket. Before I can talk myself out of it, I sink farther into the pillows and drape Clio’s body over mine.

“Noah?” she mumbles against my chest.

“Shh. Go back to sleep, princess.”

TWENTY-SIX

ANYTHING BUT SIMPLE

♫ Drag Path - Twenty One Pilots

CLIO

Sixteen years ago

“You’ll get rid of that brat, or I’ll make you regret ever coming back into this house,” Rodney snarls. “Whoring around behind our backs. Shameful little slut.”

The words should hurt, but I’m used to it by now. Rodney doesn’t know that it was my first time—that I’ve never been with another boy since Andrew, or that Andrew broke my heart and walked away like nothing happened afterward.

I survived sixteen years under this roof—six of those years under Rodney’s thumb—but I can’t stay here any longer. My mother’s sitting in her armchair watching the spectacle with a cigarette in one hand and a glass of vodka in the other, as is her custom.

I wouldn’t expect anything less than absolute detachment.

She used to care about us, but it’s been a long time since she’s shown us affection. We lost her the day my father was buried six feet underground. The once loving woman, replaced by an alcoholic gambler. Less than a year later, she brought Rodney home, and he never left.

“I’ll go, but I’m taking Callie with me.”

“Like hell you will,” Rodney replies in that slurred voice I’ve grown accustomed to.

It was my mistake, leaving the pregnancy test in the bathroom trash. I didn’t cover it with enough toilet paper, and my mom found it and showed it to Rodney. They forced me to go to the doctor to confirm the pregnancy. We were given a pamphlet and a phone number to an abortion clinic when my mom asked for one.

Nobody asked me what I wanted.

My baby.

I want my baby.

I don’t know if I’m ready to be a mom—I’m only sixteen years old—but I’ve always wanted a family. Someone to love and who’ll love me back. I haven’t felt that kind of love from anyone aside from my sister in a very long time.

My sister.

How can I leave her? I’m all she has left.

I have to choose. I can’t stay here and keep my baby, but if I leave, Callie will be alone, and the abuse I’ve endured for both of us will fall on her shoulders. She’s only ten.

I could come back for her.

I’ll leave and make a home for us. When the time is right, I’ll come back.

But where will I go? I don’t have anybody. Mom’s family deserted us years ago, and Dad didn't have any family we know of. We have no one. It’s probably why Rodney finds it so easy to use us as punching bags—there’s no one around to care.

Lindsey.