Page 62 of The Devils They Are
This is a clear violation of trust. Bexley's going to lose her shit when she finds out I stole her dead mother's belongings and impersonated myself as a friend there on her behalf.
After I get clean—which doesn't help ease the feeling at all—I sit on my bed, staring at my cell. Would she respond if I messaged her?
My fingers type out a message, delete it, write out another, and delete that too.
Eventually, I settle for the old trick of sending lyrics, hoping to gauge some type of reaction. I share the link to Spotify, attaching the Lawless Dragons lyrics in a text message to Bexley.
It sends, and I stare at the screen, hoping to see those three little bubbles appear.
My heart races when it gives the indication that she's read the message. And I wait.
But nothing appears. No bubbles, no response.
Sighing, I realize the only way I'm going to get a reply from her is in person. And it also means I might end up with something being thrown at my head. But that's fine.
I have fast reflexes.
Chapter twenty-two
Bexley
ByMonday,Irealizedthat I couldn't avoid the world any longer. I spent the entire weekend curled up in bed, crying, until my body was incapable of producing anymore tears. A few times, someone knocked on my door, but I couldn't bring myself to answer. It was easier to hide, to blast tunes and temporarily take myself elsewhere mentally until I was able to shut it all off.
I'd finally fallen down that spiral where no matter how hard I tried my face gave everything away. So, I hid. The world kept turning and no one was the wiser that I was broken.
Monday morning, I feigned being ill again—this time with a swollen ankle—so that I could face the inevitable without being disturbed or distracted.
It just wasn't an option to put it off any longer. The thought of Mom laying in the hospital morgue, cold and alone, destroyed me all weekend. I went to the hospital and finally spoke to the team who handledend of life transfers—aka removal of deceased patients from the premises.
Did you know that hospitals can only hold bodies in the morgue for so long? Well, I just learned all the details. Never thought that I'd suddenly be equipped with the knowledge of those types of procedures, but here I am.
Part of my emotional breakdown was also attributed to the fact that I was about to face financial ruin at the ripe old age of eighteen. Neither of us had planned for Mom to die so early, and with little financial support, I had no idea how I was going to cover the costs to bury her. Or how I would be able to afford utilities and groceries now that she was gone. Her payments would be cut off, and without a job, I have no way to support myself. Having a roof over my head is one thing, but what good is it if I can't afford to eat or pay for electricity?
But not even that could beat the heartache and bitter reality of facing a life without my mom. I'd rather be hungry and cold with her than alone without.
Today, it was a matter of picking my poison—one destructive task at a time. And that was to deal with the hospital and contact the funeral parlor.
The Ridgeview Valley Funeral Home was situated in the central business district, not far from the crater. I'd never had the displeasure of meeting Mr. Morrison before, and truthfully, I hope I never do again.
Sure, he's a lovely old man, but even though it's not his fault, I can't help but associate his presence with my grief.
It was times like this that I really wish I knew how to ask for help. Having a friend with me, to help soak in the vast information would be beneficial. But I can't do it yet.
Archie keeps messaging, asking if I'm okay. Hiding behind my screen will only work for so long. Tomorrow, I need to return to school, to check on everyone. I just hope that I've broken my tear ducts so they stop working for the few hours that I have to socialize.
The last thing I need is those Willowbrook assholes seeing me cry. I'm not going to give them the satisfaction of seeing me broken. Or give them any ammunition to use against me.
I'm stronger than my demons. I'm stronger than the lies that haunt me.
I just need to take it day by day.
I had half a mind to throw out the new shorts that Rylan gifted me. The Willowbrook crowd enjoy that class, always ready to taunt my inability to purchase new clothes. And seeing the new shorts, they definitely had something to say about it last week.
But after weighing up my options, I decided it was better to have them mock my new attire and make snide remarks, rather than have them stare at my ass all morning.
Dumping my bag by the seats near the track, I take a final look at it, wondering if those vapid, bleach-haired cheerleaders will attempt to steal it again. Part of me hoped they would, so I had an excuse to punch someone and release some pent-up energy.
"Morning, sunshine!" Sophia beams, bouncing over.
