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“Home. Aida is waiting for me.” He pulled out his satellite phone, effectively ending the conversation. Being part of the organization meant you needed to learn when to speak and when not to. I wasn’t sure it was something I could teach to my soldiers, but I was determined to show them the way. We all had a reason why we’d joined, whether by blood or by force. Whichever it was, loyalty and dedication had to be at the forefront of every decision.
I swiped my hand down my face, trying to formulate a plan to effectively show my soldiers without putting any of them at risk. My job just got a hell of a lot harder than I’d ever thought it would be.
CHAPTER 8
LUNA
The hand on the clock ticked by, haunting me. I had an hour until the midnight deadline, and I couldn’t find my laptop anywhere. It had been here when I got home from college earlier, but now it was nowhere to be seen. I was positive I’d left it on my bed while I went to have a shower. Had I imagined it?
No. My assignment was ready to go, all I needed was to do a last proofread and then I could click send. But not if I didn’t find the damn laptop.
I yanked the sheets off, searched under the comforter, under my bed, and even in my small set of drawers that held the few thrift store clothes I owned.
Fuck. What if I’d left it in the kitchen when I grabbed a snack earlier?
I darted out of my bedroom and ran down to the living room. Mom was half lying on the edge of the sofa, her eyes far away, and Dad was sitting next to her on the floor, his hand on her thigh. It didn’t matter what happened, they were always close to each other. Although, I thought it was more Dad than Mom.
Sometimes I wondered if she wasn’t around, whether he would have stayed clean. He never seemed to have as much trouble not buying the toxic stuff, but when she was high, it was as if he needed to be right there with her.
I pulled in a breath, trying to control myself enough to get the words out. They hadn’t had any drugs when I’d first gotten home, but now there were two extra people in the apartment, so they’d clearly found some. “Have you seen my laptop?”
Silence. From all four of them.
I barged into the room, slamming my feet on the floor as I went. “Mom!” I snatched the cigarette out of her mouth, but even that didn’t faze her. She was too high for her own good, shut off in her own world where nothing and nobody mattered. “Have you seen my laptop?” I repeated.
She moaned, her eyes rolling as if I was an annoying gnat. “Go away,” she croaked out, her voice grittier than usual. It was a clear signal that she’d only just taken whatever poison she was currently obsessed with.
“Dad?” I turned my attention to him. “Have you seen my laptop?”
He glanced away, and deep down I knew what had happened. They wouldn’t come out and say it, but there was a full baggie of white powder sitting in front of them.
My breath left me slowly, my gaze moving from my mom to my dad and back again. I tried to keep my cool, I really did, but this just felt like the last straw. They’d promised me they’d stay clean. They’d spoken of a life where we could be together and build our relationship, but nothing had changed. Nothing would ever change. It didn’t matter how many times I held out hope, they’d dash it without a second thought.
“You sold it.” It wasn’t a question. It was a statement. One that neither of them denied. “Why would you do that?” I threw my hands up in the air and started to pace the small living room. Mom chuckled, and the sound reached down inside me, roaring the spark igniting inside me and flourishing it into a roaring flame. “I hate you!” I knew I sounded like a surly teenager, but I felt it deep down in my bones.
I should have moved here on my own, started fresh without them. But there was always that small part of me that wished they would change, and when it was so close—within arm’s reach—it was irresistible to think it would be different.
“Do you realize what you’ve done?” I shouted.
“Luna,” Dad slurred, trying to stand. He put his hand on the sofa but missed it twice. On his third attempt, he stumbled fully onto the floor.
“Look at you.” I shook my head, my voice lowering. “Look at the state you’re both in.”
Mom snorted. “There she is again.” Her voice sounded as clear as it had the last time that she was clean. “Judging us again.” She lifted herself up into a seated position, her gaze latching on to mine and not letting go. “You have no idea what it’s like to be us.”
“Seriously—”
“You don’t.” She pointed her finger at me, her hands shaking at the move. “When I was a kid, my mom was never
home—”
“And my mom was constantly high!” I slapped my hands against my thighs. “At least you didn’t have to witness your mom waste her goddamn life.” I huffed out a breath, not believing she was going to use the same goddamn sob story on me again. “Your story worked when I was seven.” I pushed some hair out of my face. “It worked when I was eight. When I was nine. But when I hit ten?” I pursed my lips, raising a brow at her. “I realized it was an excuse. An excuse you used to make yourself feel better for not being my mom.”
“Don’t you dare,” she screeched, throwing herself off the sofa. She stumbled into the makeshift table, and I noticed now that the wooden one that was sitting there last week must have been sold too. Now it was a cardboard box they’d balanced but it was already collapsing in on itself, just like she was. “I was abandoned by my dad! Yours is sitting right there!” She threw her arm out in my dad’s direction, hitting him across the head in the process, but he didn’t seem to even feel it.
“No,” I whispered. I backed away from them. “That isn’t my dad. My dad only comes around when you get clean.” I made it all the way to the doorway of the living room. “You’re not the only ones whose parents abandoned her.” I placed my hand over my heart. “The only difference is, I had to watch my mom and dad each day while they disappeared into their own world. You may have physically been there, but you left me before we even had a chance.”
Dad raised his hand, his eyes blinking rapidly. Mom started shouting, but I blocked her out. I’d said my piece. I’d told them how I felt, even if they wouldn’t remember it by morning.
