Page 60 of End It All

I don't want to be here.

The single-minded thought filled me with endless guilt that had me knocking well before I was ready. On each side, I could hear one neighbor's television blasting and another having a field day with a woman. The smells that permeated the apartment building was a mixture of cat piss, wet cardboard, and Axe body spray. The sounds of the city seeped through the thin walls, adding to my overwhelmed senses. I closed my eyes for a split second, trying to center myself. For some odd reason, picturing a certain black-haired, blue-eyed, smart-mouthed,pretty boy came to mind. If Blake thought my place was bad, he'd probably pass out seeing my mom’s.

A smile curled my lips just as the door opened slightly, only about a crack worth. My mother's deep brown eyes stared up at me in confusion. It took a little too long for her to realize who was at her door.

"Quincy?" She sounded weaker than the last time I came around. It had been a while, but for a minute there, I'd been really busy with work. That was the only reason I skipped out.

The regret seeped in further as she closed the door. The clinking of the chain lock being undone did little to settle my stomach. A part of me hoped she'd step out of the apartment and want to go out into the city to talk. I'd even take the shitty staircase; anywhere but in there. But I knew my mother, and she wasn't stepping a foot out of her home unless she absolutely wanted to.

"It's been a while." She opened the door just wide enough that I could slip in.

There was a stack of old phone books that stopped mid-chest right behind the door. Even if she wanted to open it fully, that wasn't happening with shit cluttering up the place. I tried to focus on her, but that wasn't working; it never did. Surrounding us were piles of stuff, most of it, if not all of it, was trash. Bile turned in the pits of my stomach. There was a chill in the place that hit me square in the face. The two windows were blocked, but I doubted they were open.

As we moved inside, I observed my mom. She was so small, no more than five feet, and mostly skin and bones. Her brown skin looked paler than usual, as if she hadn’t seen the sun in months.

How could I let her live like this?

A part of me knew the truth; there was no reasoning with my mother. This was where she wanted to be. Every single time I'dtried to help, I had been met with anger and confusion. Not that I was any better. The incident with Blake played in my head and I swallowed back the ball in my throat. I always said I wouldn't be like my mom, and as long as I kept my bedroom free of the clutter, I felt as if I'd escaped the madness. However, as I stood in her place, I was hit with the reality that I was just as fucked as she was.

"Haven’t seen you in a while. It's rare for you to come by unannounced." She went for the recliner, lowering herself slowly and wincing with any sudden movements.

"Yeah. I've been busy."

She nodded as if she expected the answer. How many times had I given it to her just to avoid coming face-to-face with this place? My childhood flashed before my eyes, dragging up pain and nausea as images plagued me.

"Are you still working with that one boy?" She fixed her dress and grabbed a pack of cigarettes from a carton before pulling one free. “Shit, where is that lighter?"

How can you find anything in here?

I shoved the snappy words back down. Getting angry never worked, nothing ever worked. "Here, Mom." I stepped over piles of clothes I knew didn't belong to my mother. There were boxes of cat litter, but she didn't have pets. A skateboard was propped against the recliner, but never once in my childhood had I learned how to use one. The more I saw, the angrier I got. How sick was it that it also gave me some kind of comfort? I could imagine myself sitting up on the pile of decorative pillows and wishing there was food in our place.

"Harlow,” I finally answered her. “No, I don't work with him anymore. He got married."

Her brows lifted. "Someone married that pretty boy? The girl must be very confident."

I shook my head. "He married a guy and has a daughter now."

"Can't say I'm shocked. He was always running around here with his hair to his ankles. And that mother of his."

"Mom!" I blew out a slow breath. "Don't talk about her like that."You weren't any better. You didn't sell yourself but you had no issue taking the money from when I had to.

"What? I'm not wrong! She slept with anything that had a?—"

"Mom, I didn't come here to talk about Harlow's mother."

She rolled her eyes and sat back in her chair. It didn't budge; there was no room for it to even rock. "Then why did you come?"

I don't know. I felt bad. The guilt was eating me alive every single day because for some fucked-up reason, I feel this burning urge to take care of you.

"I missed you."

Her smile was genuine but it didn't quite reach her doe-shaped brown eyes. "You're always welcome here."

"I know." I moved closer to her, dropping down to one knee. I hissed as I hit a toy and it dug into my flesh. I pulled it from under me. Mom took it from me before I could throw it like I wanted to.

"This is a collectible. It's going to be very valuable soon."

No, it wasn't. "Who told you?"