Chapter 1 - You're Going
Tracy glared at her mother from the couch. She crossed her arms. How dare she make her go through this shit? Like what had happened wasn't enough? She closed her eyes. "I'm not going," she said firmly.
"What?" Her mother turned around. She was trying to light the cigarette which was pinned between her thin lips. Ugh, Tracy thought. Her mother wouldn't let her have one, but there she was… smoking right in front of her. How fucking hypocritical? "Yes, you are, Trace. You need to," she lit it up and took a long needed puff. "After all the shit you've been through, after everything you've done to yourself, don't you want to talk to someone? I mean, God knows you won't tell me about any of--"
Tracy growled. She had to bring it up, didn't she? Her eyes narrowed. If only looks could kill, Tracy thought to herself. Hmm, that might be nice. She hadn't cut in three weeks, hadn't that been enough? "I'm not going to that fucking shrink and let that bitch tell me what the hell is wrong with me!" She turned away from her. "I already know what's wrong with me," she murmured to herself.
Her mom shook her head, closing her eyes to fight back the tears. It had been so tense around here the last couple of weeks. She didn't know what to do. She had called Trace's dad, trying to get him over here, but he didn't want to deal with it. No body did, not even Trace. Oh, especially her. She sat down. "…Yeah, Trace, and what's that?" She asked, looking back to her.
Trace looked to her. How dare she? Who the FUCK did she think she was? She stood angrily, her fists down beside her, as tight as she could get them. "You," she said coldly.
Her mom looked up. Shock and immediate pain jabbed at her. "H-how could you say something like that Tracy? I never did anything to you, I--"
Tracy laughed angrily. "Who the hell do you think you're foolin', Mom? Not me!" She slapped her chest. "Even before I met Evie, I was smoking… and who do you think I got the notion from, huh? Who do you think I got the fucking cigarettes from? YOU!" She screamed. She could see the pain in her mother's eyes, and God, did she want more. "If you weren't off banging that goddamn bum you call a boyfriend, maybe you would have noticed the shit that was happening with me! Maybe you wouldn't have seen what was happening before it got to this point. But did you? No, Mom.. You didn't… and you want to know why?" She took steps forward.
Her mother shook her head. "Trace," her eyes welled up with tears. How could she say such hateful things to her? "Stop. You don't mean those things."Tracy laughed again. "…Oh, mom, believe me. I mean them. I mean EVERY single fucking word of it, because it is the truth. The TRUTH will set you free, Mom!" She grabbed her and shook her. "You want to know why you didn't notice shit about me?" Her mother shook her head again, a tear cascading down her paled face. "Because, mom… You're a pathetic waste of a parent. You're nothing!" She pushed her away as she walked passed her.
She didn't regret what she had said, she didn't feel remorse for what she had said, because she felt it was true. She blamed her mother in all of this, perhaps not as much as Evie, but that was a completely different thing.
She slammed her bedroom door and fell into her mess of a bed. Her mind was still racing with anger and hate that she hadn't even noticed how silent it was outside her bedroom door. She couldn't even hear her mother crying. Damn it, she thought to herself.
She reached behind her dresser drawer and pulled out a liter and a single cigarette. She had a secret stash of cigarettes, since that's the only thing she could really get at school. She had tried to get weed, to get coke, anything she could… but all of the kids there were fucking pansies. Hadn't tried anything new, or good… Bastards, she thought to herself as she laid back. She lit the cigarette and sucked in the tar, the nicotine, and all the pretty colors of toxins with a single soothing breath. Mmm, she blew the smoke out, closing her eyes.
So her mom wanted her to go to a shrink? Ugh, she couldn't even believe she was thinking about it again. She didn't want to tell some short little fat man with a comb-over her adolescent problems. She had a hard enough time telling her mother the stupid little random things, which most of the time, weren't true.
She looked up to the ceiling above her bed. It was just a plain ol' white, nothing special, nothing interesting. That's what she felt about herself most of the time. Nothing special… Yeah, nothing.
She needed more cigarettes and she definitely needed a drink but her mom hadn't even let rubbing alcohol or even Nyquil into the house since Evie left that day. So many things had changed, and she HATED it. She wanted things back to the way the were before… Before all of this stupid bullshit happened.
Before… when she was normal.
She puffed on the cigarette again, looking blankly up at the ceiling. Maybe she did need help? Maybe her mom was right? She rubbed the cigarette out on the dresser and dropped the butt to the floor. Whatever, she thought to herself as she kicked off her sneakers and pulled the sheets up over her head. She needed some sleep… and she needed some time to think.