AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“You stole money out of Theresa’s wallet and pawned her wedding ring. She doesn’t want you in her house anymore. This was the last straw.”
I whistle with a twirl of my finger in the air. “It should’ve been the last straw when I fucked her niece, don’t you think? Why does a couple hundred dollars from her wallet rank higher on that list?”
“How many more foster homes are you going to get kicked out of before you learn? How many times are you going to shoot up before you die?” He runs a hand through his thinning hair. “Christ, look at all the track marks on your arms. Your mother is rolling over in her grave as we speak.”
I flinch at the mention of my mother. That sobers me right the fuck up, which is a problem because I’m not pleasant when I’m sober. I stalk over to where Woods is standing. “My mother isn’t doing shit because she’s dead. She’s fucking dead. You don’t know what it’s like. You had a perfect life. Your parents loved you, loved each other. You’ve never had to live in a foster home. I’m better off on the streets than I am with those fucking people.”
“Well, that’s exactly where you’re headed. The fucking streets. You should get used to the smell of your cellmate’s shit because that’s all you’re going to smell when you’re living amongst homeless people.”
“Jack Nicholson!”
Woods blinks. “What?”
“The actor who was in The Shining. It was Jack Nicholson.” I chuckle. “Here’s Johnny!”
“You’re hopeless,” Woods murmurs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Fucking hopeless. I can’t help you.” He backs away from the bars. “I can’t help you anymore.”
“I don’t need your help. I don’t need anyone’s help. Just leave me the fuck alone.”
I watch Woods walk away until he’s out of sight. I lie down on the cold, hard floor and let what’s left of my high completely overtake my senses.
I always knew Woods would give up on me. Always knew the end of my line would come.
I just didn’t know how much it would hurt.
Chapter Nine
The Present
Carla
“Anybody home?”
The drumline on the stairs is my only warning. I set my suitcase down and plant my feet firmly on the laminate.
Sam and Lucas, my much-younger brothers, charge at me once they reach the bottom of the staircase. I brace myself for impact.
“Carla’s home!” they shout, slamming into me.
I tuck each of them under my arms and spin them around as fast as I can.
“Spin cycle!”
Sam’s a squirmer, so I lose hold of him first. He tumbles onto the floor and Lucas goes rolling after him.
“Your heads! Watch your heads!” Mom enters the living room and throws her arms around me. “Oh, honey. I’m so glad you’re home. I was so worried about you driving all that way by yourself.”
“It was fine, Mom. I actually enjoyed the ride.”
Dad breezes past me and sits in his favorite recliner. “Car run okay?”
“It was great until the AC shit the bed.”
“Shit the bed! Shit the bed!” the twins chant, now wrestling next to the coffee table.
My hand clamps over my mouth. “Sorry, Mom.”
She holds her head and takes a seat on the recliner beside Dad. Her level of melodrama always rises when the boys wrestle.
