I reach in my back pocket and pull out a single pencil, just as I used to back when he was alive to accept them. “I brought you a gift. I thought you might be able to use it up there. I’m sure you’re probably still breaking those pencils. You were always so rough and careless with them.”

I get ready to place the pencil next to the flowers, when I notice there’s already one there. I throw my hand over my mouth and start to bawl. I know exactly who it’s from and suddenly I just can’t hold it in any longer. I feel as if I’m being ripped apart from the inside and my lungs have burst into flames.

Dropping the pencil next to the one Kellan brought, I lay my head on the ground and close my eyes. “This kills me, Adi. I just wish I could hear your laugh again while you sit there sketching and making fun of me. Those sketches were absolutely beautiful. I wish I could find one of a Peacock, drawn by you. I think I’m finally going to get it done. My first tattoo. I just wish it were a part of you somehow. I’m going to ask Kellan to do it. I know he’ll do as good of a job as you would have. I trust that with all my heart. He’s just as passionate as you were. We both miss you.”

My mind plays through the night. “Kellan sang for you tonight, but I'm sure you heard him. You'd be proud of him, Adi. I just wish I could take the pain away from him. He really loved you. This girl came into the bar tonight. She was beautiful but didn't look familiar. She knew you though. I wish she would have stayed. She looked like she was in pain too. It makes me wonder just how many people still suffer from your absence. I thought I was the only one after this long, but I guess I was wrong.”

I hug the ground and lay there until I can barely keep my eyes open. That's when I finally call it a night. A person can only handle so much in a day.

Chapter Seventeen

Phoenix

I pull the blanket back, sit up and look behind me at the couch. The house is almost completely dark, but somehow I can still manage to see the silhouette of my mother’s hand dangling off the couch, with the neck of the bottle to her poison in her clutch. As my eyes come into focus, I can see her more clearly. One leg is draped over the cushion, her foot brushing the floor. The bottle of Jack is balancing on the corner of the bottle, almost completely horizontal. The only thing keeping it from spilling out is her fingers around the neck.

My first instinct is to wake her up and yell at her for acting like an adolescent when she has a teenage daughter to care for, but I fight a battle within myself, telling me to take it easy on her. Plus, I’d rather not deal with a drunken mother at four in the morning anyhow. I’ve seen her in far worse conditions than just a bottle of jack almost empty, next to her head. At least it wasn't a tequila night. This is mild compared to what I was used to as a kid, so maybe she’s learned to deal with her stress better over the years. At least, I hope so for Zoe’s sake.

It’s been a few days now since Adric’s birthday and the hours seem to drag on, slowly tearing my sanity down bit by bit. My home life has become hectic, making me wish I could just sleep the whole time and pretend I’m somewhere else. Somewhere I can actually manage to think without worrying about my mom and Zoe constantly fighting. It’s becoming so unbearable, that Zoe spends most of her time running the streets doing only God knows what with her friends and not coming home ‘til late hours of the night. The bad part is, my mom doesn't even bother questioning her anymore. She's barely fifteen. Actually, she won't even turn fifteen for another five weeks. It kills me to think she doesn’t give a crap. I'm scared she will end up pregnant, in jail, or worse . . . like Adric. I swallow hard at that horrible thought. I can't ever lose her, too.

Work life hasn't been much better either. Kade is still giving me the cold shoulder and when he isn't, he's putting his energy into trying to make me jealous by bringing random girls into the bar and throwing himself all over them. However, it doesn't make me jealous, it just pisses me the hell off. I don't get the point. I understand he’s mad, but him trying to upset me on purpose is low, even for him. I didn’t do what I did with Kellan because I wanted to hurt Kade. I did it because I couldn’t stop myself. I would never do something to hurt someone on purpose. Besides, it’s not like Kellan and I have even spoken in days and probably won’t either. What we had was just one night of heated passion and now it’s done. Squashed. Like I wish my phone was.

In fact, my cell phone has become more of a torture device than a way of communication, keeping my hopes up over that one phone call I’m sure to never receive. Every time it pings, my heart goes wild only to drop to my stomach when I realize it's Jen or someone else but him. Some days I even find myself hiding my phone in random spots so I won’t check it every damn hour and sometimes I even forget where I hid it. Who does that? Why I do this to myself, I’ll never figure out.

I find it pretty pathetic I have to stoop to that level. I've never had to be one of those girls crazy over waiting on a call from a guy. The truth is, I could really use some support and Kellan has always had a way to make me forget things, even if just for a moment. Right now, it’s not even just about me wanting him physically, which I do and very badly at that. It’s about me wanting him emotionally. I need his support. I need to talk to him. He is the only one who understands exactly as I do.

I’ve already made my decision and I plan on going to that damn tattoo shop today. It’s settled. I’m going to tell him whether or not he wants to see me, I still want him to do one last thing for me. That’s give me my first and only tattoo. I will only get inked by him. I can’t let anyone else permanently leave their mark on my body. It has to mean something to me. After that, he never has to see me again. As much as it hurts, I can't push him into wanting me like I do him. I have to let him go.

Knowing there’s no possible way I can fall back to sleep, I push the blanket aside and push myself to my feet. I stand in front of the couch and look down at my mother. The pitiful look on her face makes my heart ache. She looks so torn and weak with black streaks that very noticeably cover her pale cheeks. Big dark circles that sit under her eyes alter her beauty that was once present. She was beautiful at one time. You know how they say life can take its toll on your body when drugs or alcohol consumes you? Well, she is that proof. I hate seeing her this way. She looks much older than she really is. You would guess she were more around the age of sixty than forty-nine. I wish she would take my advice and get the help she needs before it's too late.