❝And she did the drugs for fun
But now she does them just to stay up❞
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I'm a half smoked cigarettes girl, a tiny tops and eye glitter girl, a quick and cheap girl. The female version of a playboy. Sexy, sweet, sour, anyth...
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"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?" Was the first thing I heard when I woke up. I pushed myself up on my hands, to see Jack holding Evie who was bawling.
"What happened?" I asked rubbing my eyes. My head was pounding. To the point I thought my entire brain was going to explode out of my skull. It was raining, it was pouring actually.
"HOW LONG HAVE YOU BEEN ASLEEP?" Jack screamed at me. I held my hands to my ears.
"I don't fucking know. Since last night, Evie was upset and so I set her down took some pills and.." I trailed off, meeting his gaze. He looked furious. I didn't understand why though. Until my eyes landed on the clock. It was 12pm. I'd been asleep since around 3pm yesterday after my call with Jack. It dawned on me, who goes to a party at 3pm anyway. Shit, that meant I'd slept through more of my daughter's crying.
"When I walked through this door the first thing I heard was her screaming at the top of her lungs, I walk into her room, her diapers completely full with piss and shit, and she hasn't been fed clearly. What were you thinking?" He said, trying to not shout more at me maybe sympathetic for my headache. I stood from the couch taking Evie from him. Then I remembered what I'd seen online, you can't nurse with alcohol or drugs in your system it taints the milk. I bounced her as I walked to the kitchen. Jack sank into the couch.
"Fuck Kaitlyn. This is my fault isn't it?" He said rubbing his temples. I didn't say anything I simply snatched Evie's bottle from the warmer and poured milk into it. I shook it as I walked to the couch. Jack looked at me.
"What are we doing here Jack? What is this?"
"I think this is us trying to keep our kid alive." He said flatly, no warmth in his voice. I stared at him.
"Where did you go?"
He rubbed his forehead and let out a long sigh. The same sigh I imagine cancer patients to sound like. Like he was just too tired to move, or even to pick up a feather.
"I went to Alex's." He replied. I scowled at him.
"Strip poker?" I asked, because that used to be my thing. He nodded.
"I won."
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Later that night, as I layed on the floor of my daughter's nursery I stared at her sleeping form. I count the bruises on my arms, I count the times Jack said sorry, and all the times he didn't. It's then that I remember I am not a saint. I abused my friends, verbally, mentally, and sometimes physically. I used to hit at my mom when I got too mad. I hadn't gone and laid next to Jack. I did not want to lay in that bed. I wanted to forget. I needed to leave. Like I always did. I fantasized about it. Taking Evie, taking the truck and just driving out of Aspen, into Denver. A city you could get lost in. I would strip, or even sell my body. I would provide a life for her. But I simply could not.
It is not kind to wake up your child, so I did my best to move about her room. Tossing some of her clothes into a bag. Diapers, bottles, her little stuffed polar bear. I threw it to the back of her closet. ICE. In case of emergency.
