I glance into my dad’s room. And just like I thought, he’s passed out drunk.
Maybe it’s better I don’t confront him and give him a chance to make things even worse. He already destroyed me, and now he’s destroyed what little belongings I have. I’m left with nothing, and the only thing to do with nothing...is to make it something.
I check for all my essential belongings, gather up some non-perishable food and water bottles, and when I’m sure I’ve got all I need, I tie up my boots and walk out the door.
Standing outside, the cool night air blankets my face. Taking a deep breath, I contemplate where the hell a person like me goes next.
Then it hits me, don’t think, Cam...just do.
So I do. I take my first step, not allowing myself to look back. There’s no point. I’m no longer going that way.
◆◆◆
The smell of salt water and sand is something I’ve always imagined but never actually experienced until now.
The moonlight shining over the ocean makes the black waves crashing towards the shore look as though they sparkle. Some may think I’m crazy for living so close to a beach but never stepping foot on one. And, let’s face it, a part of me is.
I’m afraid to be anywhere other than where I’m comfortable. And throughout my whole life, the only place I was comfortable was in the place that broke me down. I was so conditioned to believe my way of life was normal that the simplicity of sitting on a beach was too intimidating.
The noise infiltrates the solace, not the other way around.
At home, I know what’s coming. Places like a seemingly calm boardwalk can somehow feel threatening. My fear lies in the quiet before the storm...it’s the storm I’ve adapted to.
But, now that I’m here, I find it hard to believe a place this beautiful can be terrifying at all. Or at least more terrifying than my life at home.
After admiring the view in front of me, I go through the list in my head of things I need to do. Finding a place to live is my first priority. With winter approaching in a few months, life on the street could get complicated fast. A shelter could never be an option for me. I’d be forced to sleep next to complete strangers. Shelters in New York City are poorly run and a breeding ground for addicts and predators.
A girl like me wouldn’t last a night without incident.
I could probably take a semester off school to get settled somewhere if need be. I know my grades are great, but I’ll need a new laptop. And there’s no use in signing up for new classes when I have no Wi-Fi to complete my assignments.
Then there’s my job. I also need Wi-Fi to work. Even if I find a small studio, I’m not sure if U-Haul pays enough to cover the rent. Doubt stirs in my gut now after conjuring up potential scenarios.
I put a mental pin on the list for now and allow myself to enjoy this moment. I finally left. It’s me against this great big world now.
I just hope the world goes easier on me than my parents did.
Five
Jaxon
“Ughhhh, fuck these boots.”
Exhausted, I throw them across the room, barely missing Magnet.
For a cat, he’s not agile at all. In fact, he defies every feline law. The little leech got his name the day he decided to cling to my leg on my short walk home from work not too long after I moved in. I was minding my own business when this black and grey flea-infested fur ball rubbed up against my leg.
I may play the macho-guy on the outside, but deep down, I’m nothing but an undercover cat person. That black spot around his eye that reaches his clipped right ear reminded me of myself- bruised and clawing my way to my next stop. I fell for Magnet, hook, line, and sinker. He still follows me around everywhere, so, technically, it’s his fault for almost getting socked with my boot.
He doesn’t scurry off as most cats would. Magnet just stares at me with a go screw yourself and feed me look, so I do just that.
In the kitchen, I pick up Magnet’s blue bowl and place it on the table. I fill it with tuna and a dab of peanut butter, just how he likes. When I bend over to place his dish back on the floor, a piece of paper drops out of my pocket. Well, a receipt, really.
I don’t know why I kept it, but there was something about the haunted look in the girl’s eyes that seemed all too familiar. Almost like I’ve been where she is, and I can’t shake it.
A troubled soul can always spot a troubled soul.
Even in a place as insignificant as a 7-Eleven. Buying the third installment of what’s actually a really good enemies-to-lovers romance, but everyone knows you have to read the first two to grasp the tension between the characters.
You’re doing it again, Jax. Rein in the inner romance novel enthusiast.
I don’t know much about romance right now because my heart and I haven’t been on the best of terms. Since Gelissa, I’ve sworn off the estrogen. I’ve been too busy trying to turn my life around, and a girlfriend’s the last thing on my mind.
Besides, Jaxon Carter’s future was decided the day I was left at a Shoprite when I was just a few days old. Not even a hospital or firehouse was good enough for me.
No, whoever pushed me out of her hellhole twenty-three years ago decided supermarkets were where all the heroes resided.
I was left screaming, practically naked, in a box with nothing but a sailboat, receiving blanket, and a blue bunny to console me. This story doesn’t end with a doting couple finding me and knowing they wanted me from the second they laid their eyes on me either.
I spent almost
