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“Mom.” I grab her chin and turn her face to the side, heart race kicking into full speed when realization hits me.
“Fuck, Mom!” I jump back from her and run my hand down my face. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. What the fuck!”
She’s dead. She’sreallyfucking dead.
“Shit, what do I do?” I mumble.
The very last thing that I want to do.
Picking up my phone, I dial my dad and turn my back to my mom. I can’t even look at her. The amount of times that I’ve walked in on her like this, thinking thatthisis the time that she’s dead. I didn’t do it today, and today’s the day she’s not breathing.
“What?” My dad says as a way of greeting.
“Dad.” I say somberly. I’m a little in shock and don’t really know how I’m feeling yet. Sad? Happy? Angry?
“What is it, Jackson?” He can tell by my tone that something isn’t right. Maybe he can smell the death through the phone.
“It’s Mom.” I choke out.
Silence.
“What about her?” He orders, tone suddenly sharp. Lethally sharp.
“She’s gone, Dad. She’s dead.” I whisper, finally turning around and looking at her. Still slumped over, this time her head is tipped back, and her dead, vacant eyes stare at the ceiling.
I swear I can see relief in those soulless eyes.
“Stay there.” He hangs up the phone, and I drop mine to the ground.
Walking over to my mom, I sit down on the couch next to her and shut her eyelids.
Is there something I could have done differently? Was there any saving her at all? Or was she doomed from the start? Living with Randall isn’t easy, but maybe I could have helped her get away from him? We could have run away, or I could’ve given her money and let her flee, much like Easton’s mom did.
Looking over at her, I trail my eyes along her body, knowing it’s going to be one of the last times I’m ever going to be able to.
“What?” I whisper, seeing a piece of paper crumpled in her palm.
Straightening out the piece of paper, I see her shaky, feminine handwriting scrawled across.
I’m sorry, Wren.
“You spineless bitch,she’s fucking dead! But you’re too fucking drugged out to see that your other kid isstill alive!” I roar, smushing the piece of paper and pocketing it. The last thing I need is for my dad to see it.
It wasn’t an accidental overdose.
It was a fucking suicide.
Pure shock slides through me. She really did it. She had years to kill herself, and she chose now.
“You’re about to be a grandmother. Maybe that would have dragged you out of this hole you insisted on being in.” Nah, who the fuck am I kidding? She’s been hanging on the thread of depression and death for years now. It was only a matter of time.
I just can’t believe she did it.
And I feel absolutely sick that a part of me feels relief that she’s gone.
The door slams open, and my head shoots up to find my dad standing in the doorway.
Rage, shock, and sadness make him look like a lunatic as he storms in and over to my mom. He grabs her by the shoulders and lays her on the back of the couch.
