Page 7 of The Devils They Are
"Mom,I'mhome,"Icall out, closing the front door behind me.
It's quiet, which can mean only one thing.
Dropping my bag at the doorway with a sigh, I make my way to the other end of the house, finding her bedroom door open. As I thought, she's passed out on top of the duvet, an empty bottle of cheap-ass wine on the bedside table.
She doesn't move a single muscle as I approach, soft snores coming from her petite frame.
I hate that she's withering away in front of me. It wasn't always like this. Once upon a time, I had a sickeningly happy family. But four years ago, my dad lost his job and went into a spiral. Eventually, it tore their marriage apart, and he walked out one night and never came back.
I stood at my bedroom window that night, watching him pack our only car. I silently begged him to look over at my window, to see me. My heart knew he was leaving, but if that wasn't enough solid evidence, their screaming had been.
I heard the whole fight. He had cheated with a neighbor while Mom was at work and I was at school. But despite knowing they had marital issues, a part of me thought—hoped—maybe I could change his mind. Maybe I would be enough for him to stay—or at the very least, not stray too far.
But sometimes wishes don't come true. Life isn’t a fairytale.
All I remember is him kissing me goodnight, tucking me into bed before the screaming had started. I stayed awake listening to it, doors slamming, before eventually all I could hear was sobs and the sound of the trunk being opened outside my bedroom window.
We never did find out where he went. All I know is nothing could save his mental spiral, not even me. And eventually, Mom went into a spiral too.
After she removed all traces of him from the house, she found solace in the bottom of a bottle. And from that day forward, I became the parent of the house. I was forced to grow up and take charge, making sure we kept on top of things whenever she was in one of her depressive moods–which slowly became more frequent until it was the norm.
Sadly, it's because of my forced hardness that I ended up ruling Cedar Heights. People loved that protective, fierce nature. They looked up to it. I guess in a way it was a comfort for them too—many having their own challenges in life and needing someone to step up that was willing to help them. Or probably just the fact that someonewantedto take care of them.
No one takes care of me. But I've long learned to accept that. There's no use breaking down, crying for my parents to change–I already tried. I’m here now, and that's what I need to focus on. I can't change the past, but I control my future.
Grabbing a spare blanket from her dresser, I drape it over her, grabbing the empty bottle of wine and discarding it into the trash. I replace it with a glass of water and two Tylenol for when she wakes, before heading to my bedroom.
Sitting down at my desk by the window, I open my bag and place my schedule in front of me. Memorizing tomorrow's classes, I switch out my textbooks for what I need before grabbing out my cell.
I had asked Archie to organize a bonfire night down at the beach. By beach, I mean it’s more like a small lake with rocks and sand, on the opposite side of Ridgeview Valley away from the caves. It's only about half a mile long, but it's on Cedar's side of town, so we hang there when we need to unwind.
I think after the day everyone has had they deserve a night to vent and decompress. Moody Mondays are already sad enough without throwing Willowbrook bastards into the mix.
Opening my cell, I read Arch's newest text message, confirming that everything is sorted. There’s still a few hours before I need to head down, so I go raid the fridge and make some cheap pasta with cheese before putting on some music and stare at the ceiling.
There's already a crowd of people on Cedar Beach when I pull up in my old blue Ford pickup.
Climbing out of the cab, I spot Archie immediately on the sand, red solo cup in his hand as he laughs and chats with a few people.
Sneaking up behind him, I surprise him when I pinch the cup from his hand, taking a sip as his eyes light up. "There you are! Was beginning to think you had gotten lost."
Swallowing the warm beer, I hand the cup back to him. "Got distracted doom scrolling for a bit. Thanks for getting this all sorted."
He nods. "Took us a while to get the fire going. Damn wind kept putting it out."
Out of the corner of my eye, I see a figure bouncing toward me, and when I turn, Millie is there with two cups in her hands. "Bex!" she greets, holding out a cup. "I got you a drink."
"Thanks, Mills," I say warmly, taking it from her. "How was your first day?"
She visibly cringes, rolling her eyes with a sigh. "It wasfine. How long did Principal Samson say we need to be there for again?"
"Hopefully not too long," I tell her softly. "Just keep your head high and be on your guard."
Something flashes in her eyes, but she doesn't voice it. There’s no need. I know she's itching to give back whatever bullshit someone throws at her. But I've made everyone promise to keep out of trouble…
However, if someone else starts it, they have my permission toend it.
This girl has been begging me to let her fight in the cage for months. But while I have no concerns that she could hold her own, her older brother, Parker, has forbidden her from stepping inside the rusty cage.
