I stared at the quote, taken by surprise that the words seemed to be exactly what I needed to hear. I didn’t know much about Albert Einstein, but I did know that few minds have ever been as brilliant as his. The fact that a genius knew there could be more to this life than meets the eye was oddly reassuring.
I sat there quietly, really trying to wrap my head around the facts. Firstly, vampires existed…they were really real, not just scary made-up creatures meant to scare kids on Halloween; Secondly, I was one of a rare group of people whose blood made them stronger; and Thirdly, if I didn’t let Braden, Zac, Logan, and Cole protect me, there was a very real possibility that I would be captured by one.
Just because I didn’t want to believe it, didn’t make it any less true. It didn’t take away the fact that I was in danger. What I wanted to believe—what I was able to believe—had nothing to do with reality. There was nothing to do but accept the facts and get on with it.
Eventually, my stomach growled loudly, so I went downstairs to see what we had to make for lunch. I was in the kitchen making a tuna sandwich when mom walked in.
“Honey?” her voice was soft, “Why aren’t you at school?”
“I didn’t feel good this morning. A lot going on.”
“What’s wrong?”
I glanced over my shoulder, feeling her rub my back, “I’m making tuna. Do you want some? You should probably have something to eat.”
“Elle,” she turned me to face her. “I’m sorry for this morning.”
I stared into her worn, bloodshot eyes. “You say that a lot, mom. I’m having a hard time believing you anymore. You’re going to kill yourself. You need rehab.”
“I’ll stop,” she said with uncertainty. “I need to stop. It’s just—you don’t understand.”
“Yes, I do understand. And you’re right, you need to stop, but at this point, you can’t do it yourself. You need medically supervised detox so you don’t die having a withdrawal seizure or God knows what else. The doctor made it clear that you’re way too deep into this to just quit cold turkey.”
I could see the sadness on her face. Part of me wanted to believe that she meant it when she said she wanted to quit, but I was done getting my hopes up.
“What do we do, then?” I threw the question at her.
“Before I checked out of the hospital, someone came to talk to me about rehab. We have a clinic here in town that could help me.”
“You would really consider going to a clinic for help?” I scrunched my forehead. “Where is this coming from?” Mom never talked like this. Ever.
“I need to be your mother, not your problem. The person who talked to me said I was killing myself, and my smart little girl needed me.”
“Really?Smart little girl, huh? Sounds like something Jen’s parents would say,” I said as I rolled my eyes.
“Well, it was her dad who talked to me about the clinic. He also told me that they were going to be moving away.” She reached for my arm, “I’m sorry your friend is leaving. Thank God you have David.”
“David’s out of the picture now too, but I really don’t want to get into that,” I said. “I’m surprised Jon even came to talk to you. Apparently, I’m a bad influence on their daughter.” I felt tears start to well up in my eyes.
“I know,” she said sadly. “That’s all my fault, and it’s why I want to try to get sober. For you.”
“You need to do this for you, mom, or it won’t work.”
Two heavy knocks sounded against the front door.
“Who the hell is here at 1:00 o’clock?” I eyed her. “Is this your ride to the bar?”
Mom’s eyes widened, “No, I have no idea who it could be. I promise I didn’t plan to get a ride to the bar today. I’ll see who it is.”
I stopped her before she could answer the door, wearing only an oversized shirt. “You can’t open the door looking like that!” I exhaled. “Stay here. If it’s one of your asshole friends trying to get you to go drinking, I’m sending them out of here.”
I opened the door to find an express mail carrier holding a large envelope. “I have a special delivery for Ms. Simms.”
I took the offered pen from him, scribbled my last name, and practically shut the door in his face.
“Who is it?” Mom called from the kitchen.
“It’s just the mail,” I said, tearing open the seal to see what was inside. My mouth dropped when I pulled out a folder filled with information about a rehab program. “San Diego?”
