Page 64 of Never Enough

Still, my stomach churns, and once this is over with, I will vomit. She’s hit me before but never tried to kill me.

“Mother, please!” I gasp once I scratch her hard enough that she retracts her arms. Water blurs my vision, but I don’t bother trying to wipe my eyes. It’s my lungs I’m giving attention to while I can.

Then, she says something so out of place, as I struggle, that I can’t help but pay attention. “I notice the way you stare at Alexandru Whitmore.”

So, this is what it’s about? She thinks Grandmagave me money to learn the harp so I could pursue a boy? It’s not true. I met him after I’d started at the institute.

Barely able to hear her taunts as water rushes into my ears, I can only focus on Alexandru. It gives me the motivation to keep fighting. Never seeing Alexandru’s face again. Never getting to tell him how I feel or express how amazing he is.

I can’t die before I tell him. It’s him I think about before death, and that’s something I hold on to. Suddenly, I don’t care about my harp as much or how I’ll get to see Grandmasoon. It’s all about Alexandru Whitmore.

His melancholy smile.

His bright, brown eyes.

His frame.

I think of how I’ll die alone if I don’t fight. I’ll become nothing but a memory, and a tainted one at that because who will mourn me?

With a last burst of energy, I overpower Momby using every single muscle I have to propel my body into the air. As I do so, something cracks against the back of my head when I thrash backward. When I muster enough strength to fight my way around, I watch blood drop from her nose. I broke it.

I pivot my elbow to her throat and jab her. She falls backward, hitting her head on the floor. Not wasting even a second, I jump from the tub, water dripping, lungs burning, and flee from my apartment. Then, I rush out the front door and into the night air.

I can’t stop moving. It’s not safe here. Even as I cough water from my lungs, I stumble down the steps simultaneously. My wobbly legs threaten to give way, but still, I sprint. It feels like I’m treading water, but I’ll tread until it leads back to him.

One of my neighbors opens their door and calls out to me, asking if I need help, but I can only wave with the back of my hand. I don’t even stop.

I’m not sure how I make it to the Whitmore mansion, but I do.

The lights are off, but I know they have cameras on-site. Okay, I don’t know for sure, but I can imagine they do. I would if I were rich. I’d lock my doors rather than rely on the piece of wood that wedges between the crack of the living room and outside, like my trailer does.

My feet won’t stop moving. It’s like I’m underwater again. Much as before, rather than ending my nightmare with a single breath, I just need to see his face.

So, I climb the tree that’s outside his window. I’ve noticed it before. A few months ago, Victoria invited everyone in our music class over for a sleepover. I only went because I wanted to see him again or get him to notice me, or talk to me.

Anyway, the point is that I went. It wasn’t so bad because Eden was there, and Alex invited me to playCall of Dutywith him. Most importantly, it led me to this moment: knowing where Alexandru’s bedroom is.

While most of the lights are off inside their home, his bedroom light is on. I’m pleased about this because it’s easier to peer inside his bedroom since it’s so much darker outside than in.

I shimmy further across the tree limb. The wavering blades of grass below remind me just high up I am. It’s worth the risk, though. Especially when I see his brows furrow as he sits on his bed. He’s barefoot, wearing sleep pants and a thin t-shirt. His glasses are off, giving hint for the first time how of long his eyelashes are. He looks … melancholic … beautiful, as always, but sad. Resigned.

I can’t stand it. I’m about to rasp on his windowsill, which is crazy because he’ll scream and his parents will call the cops, andthen my mom will say, See, that’s why I tried to kill her! The girl is insane!But I can’t help it.

My knuckles brush the window, about to knock, but then he lifts from his bed, puts his hands in his pockets with his head down, and enters his closet.

Right away, I’m on high alert.

I don’t have a visual inside his closet, and I don’t know why, but this unsettles me.

I came here to get a glimpse of him. If I rest my wary eyes on him for a few moments, I can calm my aching soul and live to battle another day. Yet now that I’m here, my entire being is screaming that while my battle has been won, his is only starting to fight.

I wait, and wait, and wait, but he doesn’t come out of the closet.

Now, I’m panicking because, while I’m sure his closet is massive, what could he be doing in there? Especially when he looked so sad beforehand.

The view from his window transforms before my very eyes. I’m back in the tub with Mother’sface hovering in mine.

Everything hurts.