Free Life's A Cappella by Yessi Smith Page B

Jordyn?” He shook his head at me in disbelief. What must be going through his head? He had opened himself up to me and I had thrown my lack of trust in him in his face. “Whatever.”
    “Let me go, Trent,” I told him and he did, so I made my way to the door so I could leave.
    “Wait, you’re leaving?” he asked, but I ignored him. “No explanations?” he yelled, but I didn’t stop, so he got in front of me. “I deserve better than this. Fuck, Cam deserves better than this.”
    The truth of his words hit me like a punch to the stomach. But with my own survival at risk, I squared my shoulders, knowing he was right, but ready to fight nonetheless. It would be easier if we fought. He would hate me and my leaving would be less painful. “You deserve better?” I asked mockingly, but wrapped my arms protectively around my own waist, knowing how badly I was about to hurt myself. “Screw you, Trent, and your stupid holier than thou notions. You deserve nothing more than I’m willing to give you and I’m not giving you a damn thing.” I tried to brush past him, but he wouldn’t let me. “I’m leaving while your ego is still intact,” I told him levelly, hating myself for the venom I spewed out of my mouth.
    With my arms crossed, I stared at Trent defiantly. I didn’t want to leave, but I couldn’t stay.
    Finally resolved, he asked me, “Will you call me later?”
    “No,” I responded, because I wouldn’t. I saw the confusion and hurt in his eyes and was grateful when they turned to anger. He walked me to his door and slammed it as soon as I passed.
    Once I was in my car I plunged into a state of depression so quickly and overbearing I could hardly breathe. I reminded myself to inhale and exhale, repeatedly inhale and then exhale, while I grabbed my phone to play Eminem’s Rock Bottom. And that’s what it all came down to; my life was nothing more than desolate promises and shattered dreams.

Chapter 14
    Erin
    Somehow Camilla made it to my apartment before me and was waiting for me at my door. I stared at her, focusing all my energy on her, willing her to leave while wishing she’d stay.
    “I’m not leaving,” she told me with more determination than I’d ever heard from her. “I can wait outside your apartment until you feel sorry for me or you can just let me in now.”
    I walked past her, unlocking the door and leaving it open for her. She followed me in quietly and watched me pour myself a glass of water. I sat on my couch, feeling aged.
    “What’s going on, Erin?” Camilla sat next to me. The tenderness in her voice almost undid me.
    With my spine stiffened, I let out a sigh. What’s going on? Oh, you know, the regular shit storm I call life. I almost laughed at the thought. Camilla continued to look at me, confused and eager to help. On a sigh, I broke the silence between us. “You know my real name. You heard my mom overdosed while my sister watched. What else do you want to know?” I asked desperately. “I’m backwoods red neck white trash,” I tried to laugh, but failed. “My life was shit and I wanted a new life so I made one.
    “I never wanted to see my mom again or even think about what I left behind. I was doing a pretty damn good job at it too,” I faltered. “My mother didn’t care about anything but her drugs, whether it came from a prescription bottle or needle, it didn’t matter. That’s what she lived for, what she’s always lived for. She’d sell her daughter for her next fix.”
    “Erin—”
    “No, you wanted to know,” I interrupted. “I’ve lived on the streets, alone in strange apartments with strange men. I’ve been hit with fists, beer bottles, you name it.” I saw Camilla inch towards me, probably to hug me, and I put my hands up to stop her. “Don’t you do that. Don’t you dare. I am not broken.” I shook my head vehemently at her, not wanting to acknowledge my own lies. Not broken , I almost laughed. I was broken beyond repair.
    “No, not