disappointed all the same. “Maybe Sunday, then?”
“Maybe,” I answered noncommittally. “Will you be back tonight?” I turned to my mom.
She looked to Nix for the answer, he shook his head negatively. “I guess not,” she giggled. “Will you be Ok?”
“I’ll be fine, have a great time,” I gushed, so ready for them to be gone.
“Alright, bye sweetheart,” my mom walked over and kissed me on the forehead.
“Goodbye, Ivy,” Nix’s eyes swept over me appreciatively one more time and then he winked at me.
I waved from the couch and then held my breath until they door clicked shut behind them. As soon as they were gone I leapt from the couch and rushed to the bathroom. I barely made it to the toilet before I started vomiting up every single thing I ate today, which wasn’t all that much. I shuddered even against the violent heaving as I emptied my stomach.
When I was finished I sunk to the floor, leaning my back against the bathroom wall.
Two years might as well have been an eternity. If I had to put up with too much more of this I would never make it. I would crumble…. shatter….. I would explode into the million broken pieces I already felt like composed me. I was already wrecked. Completely fragmented and I wasn’t foolish enough to believe that freedom would fix me.
But it would let me breathe.
And that’s all I needed. I just needed to breathe.
Chapter Five
They were gone for ten minutes before I let myself move. I had to be sure they were gone. I had to know they weren’t coming back and I was free to do as I pleased.
So when I was sure, I tore from the bathroom floor and ran to my room. It was still early in the evening, but Wednesdays were a bit of a ritual night for me and since I would be taking the bus I needed to get my ass moving.
In my room, I changed again. I was in what I called my “Mom-approved-skanky-casual.” This included nice, expensive clothes that were at the same time subtly revealing and not at all age appropriate. I was a sixteen year old girl that rarely got to act sixteen except on Wednesday nights when I was in Omaha. And this was my first Wednesday back in over six months.
I ripped of my cami and shorts and shot to the very depths of my closet, the depths on the opposite side of my tattoo cover up, because both secrets were very closely tied to my heart and I couldn’t have one giving away the other, just in case of worst-case-scenario-secret-exposing-Armageddon.
Which was obviously the worst kind of Armageddon.
And could happen at any time, day or night.
People get ready.
I pulled from the bowels of my clothing sanctuary the most depressing, most soul-baring, most emo clothes I had been able to stash away over time and grinned like an idiot. I peeled, tugged, yanked and scooched my tightest black, faded skinny jeans on and paired them with depressingly worn out Chucks.
They were worn out because in my entire short-lived life I had only ever had one opportunity to sneak a pair of black and white Chuck Taylors into my wardrobe. And I knew, without a doubt, if something ever happened to them I would never get that opportunity again.
I pulled on a faded to gray Johnny Cash t-shirt and inhaled the musty smell that came with being tucked into a hole in my closet for too long. And then to finish my glorious ensemble, I zipped up my plain black hoodie. I almost squealed with delight. A hoodie. A freaking hoodie!
It had been six months since I’d been able to wear something as comfortable as a hoodie.
I always carried one around with me in my backpack, but I never wore it. It was like a security blanket for me. And maybe something more, something like the Promised Land.
I pulled a hair-tie off my vanity and wrapped my hair into a knot on the top of my head. I darkened my eye-liner to Goth-gorgeous and painted on some bright red lipstick. I stepped back so I could approve of my look in the full-length mirror.
Then I really did squeal.
If I had complete freedom, as in the ability to choose small aspects of my life without having to answer to anyone other than myself, this would not be the wardrobe I would choose. I wasn’t some closet monochromatic safe dresser or even someone that belonged in