"Skye?"
"Hmm?"
"When you're allowed to leave, am I allowed to hold you and cuddle you in public?"
"That's what you're worried about?"
"Well yeah. I want everyone to know you're mine. My cute lil' boyfriend..." Aaron drifts off before hopefully adding, "if you'll still have me?"
I nod. "Yeah. And as long as it's not overdoing it on the PDA."
Aaron grins, that goofy, infectious grin. "Good. And now that I know you're ok with public affection and everyone knows I'm gay, I'm free to be a possessive bitch."
I tilt my head. "You don't seem as scared about coming out. You're really feeling alright?"
Aaron's hesitates then nods. "My dad was the only one I was really really concerned about. He's not... happy, but he said he'll try to accept me and Kota."
"Dakota came out too?" I ask.
Aaron nods again. "That's partly why I did. Kota said he would do it with me."
"And your mum?"
"Doesn't mind at all. She looks at us no differently, which was a huge relief. Like, really huge."
I purse my lips, finding myself to be a little jealous. "That's good."
Aaron tilts his head before his eyes turn sad. "Skye, I'm sorry, I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," I say, cutting him off. "I'm the one who asked. And I had my dad and am getting closer with Lucas. I'm fine."
Aaron studies me closely, looking for any hint of a lie. He sighs softly, leaning over to kiss my cheek lightly. "Just... Tell me if you're ever not fine?"
I nod, "I will."
"The king is here!" Damon says, sauntering in.
Aaron throws him a light glare, "must you always do that?"
"Do what?" Damon replies. "Shine with the light of awesomeness? Yes, yes I must."
"I meant yell when you come in," Aaron says.
"Always make a dramatic entrance," Damon says, pretending to be a wise mentor of some sort.
Aaron rolls his eyes, and behind Damon, Nicholai does the same, smiling fondly.
"Anyway," Damon says, "I need homework help, and since Aaron is no help, Skye, you're my science help now."
I tilt my head. "Help how?"
"Explaining stuff to me. For some reason I can never remember anything important and when I do, I don't understand it. So you're helping me."
"I'm not a very good teacher," I say hesitantly.
"Just try, please?"
Slowly, I nod. "Alright."
"See, I knew there's a reason why I love you!" Damon cheers.
Aaron scowls, wrapping one arm around my shoulders. "Mine."
Damon raises an eyebrow. "How very werewolf-like. Who's the Wolff here?"
"That would be me," Lucas says, walking in, Dad close behind him.
"Skye," Dad says, sitting next to me, his tone serious in a way that tells me I'm not going to like what he's going to say. "What would you think about coming with me to get your things, however few they may be, from our old home?"
I hesitate, considering his words. "I don't know..."
"You don't have to come," Dad says. "I just thought I should ask just is case."
"I guess I will..." I say softly. "Maybe... Get a bit of closure with Mom."
"Then I want to come too," Aaron says, his hand finding mine and squeezing gently.
"Me too!" Damon pipes up. "We're Skye's self-declared bodyguards, we wanna come along!"
Dad raises an eyebrow at him, then look at me, so I shrug helplessly. There's no arguing with Damon, not when he really wants something.
Dad glances to Lucas, who raises his hands in a 'you're on your own' kind of gesture.
Dad sighs. "Alright, just... Keep it private, understand? Don't... Go posting on Instagram or something."
"Oh I'm offended," Damon says. "How dare you think I would tell someone else about this."
Dad shrugs, "just being sure. I never know with you, Damon."
"Amen to that," Lucas mutters, making Damon shoot him a glare.
"Dad, aren't you supposed to love me unconditionally?" Damon says, crossing his arms with a pout.
"Oh I do, Skittle," Lucas replies as Damon whines. "You're a pain in the ass, but your my pain in the ass."
⚬⚬⚬
I stand in front of the house I've lived in my whole life.
Dad stands next to me, my hand in his. Aaron stands on my other side, Damon next to him. I'm wearing some of Damon's clothes that he's let me borrow. He wouldn't take no for an answer.
"I feel like we're face the big scary castle as the end of an fantasy movie," Damon whispers loudly.
Mom's car is in the driveway, indicating she's home. I fidget nervously, already regretting the choice to come along.
"You'll be alright, Skye," Dad says, squeezing my hand gently. "You can wait in the car if you want."
"I'm not backing out now," I whisper.
Dad looks at me, studying me before giving a nod, kissing my forehead softly. "I love you, Skye, and I'm so sorry for leaving you."
"I know."
Hesitantly, I follow Dad up the front steps of the house. He knocks, impatiently standing with his arms crossed. Aaron and Damon stand on either side of me like actual bodyguards.
I hear the door unlock before Mom opens it, her expression angry.
"The fuck do you want?" She says. I see her visibly tense when she recognizes Dad. "Jeremiah?"
Dad nods once, anger evident in his voice. "We're here for Skye's things, Rose, so get out of the way."
"Ooo, he's angry," Damon whispers.
Mom scowls but moves further inside, letting us in. I notice Dad's tense posture as he looks around, and I can tell Aaron and Damon both tense as well.
"Excuse me, is that dried blood?" Damon says, glaring at a spot on the floor near the entrance of the kitchen.
"It's wine," Mom lies. "I spilt some earlier and forgot to clean it up."
Damon looks to me, raising at eyebrow and silently asking for the truth.
I wince, "that'll be from me stepping on glass."
Damon turns his gaze back to mom, a glare on his face, one that grows more intense when he sees she's glaring at me.
Avoiding her eyes, I hurry up the stairs ahead of Dad, the others following me to my room.
Almost on instinct, out of habit, I flop down on my bed, lying on my back. I don't really think as my hand moves into my pillowcase, fingers finding the razor blade I keep there. I pull it out, my head tilted to the side to watch my fingers fidget with the smooth metal.
I've made so many scars with this. So many cuts across otherwise smooth skin. This sharp edge has felt my blood again and again. The stinging pain, familiar and wanted.
"Skye."
I flinch at the sound of Aaron's voice, somehow having forgotten I wasn't alone. I sit up, setting the blade down on the bare nightstand.
"Sorry," I mumble, "it's a habit."
"Well it's one we're gonna break," Damon says.
I look at Dad, seeing him glancing around the room, a upset and angry look on his face.
"What did she do with the rest of your things?" he asks, voice furious.
"Sold what she could, burned most of the rest. Things that wouldn't burn are in the attic I think. Then I uh, hid what I could here."
I pull open the bottom drawer of my dresser, where small trinkets and memory-holding items are resting on some of my clothes. I reach in, pulling out the small piece of paper on top of the pile.
To anyone who cares enough to find this once I'm gone,
There's no one but myself to blame for my actions. I've planned to commit suicide for a long while now, and there's no reason for me to keep living. I've achieved what I wanted to before I died and now there's nothing left for me.
Mom, Dad, I love you. You may not love me anymore, but I can't stop loving you.
Skye Quinton Vernoy
I sigh softly, a heavy weight slowly coming to rest on my shoulders.
"What's that?" Damon asks curiously, tilting his head.
"Just a suicide note," I reply quietly, setting it on the bed next to me where Dad takes it, eyes looking over the words.
"Of course." I look up, not noticing Mom had come to lean against the doorframe, her arms crossed. Despite the three glares aimed at her, she sourly continues, "I should've known the pathetic whore would try that for attention. Guess the bruises aren't enough for your clients to take pity on you, huh? The school boys tired of using you as their slut?"
I can almost hear Dad's teeth gritting together. From his place standing close to me, I can sense Aaron tense, both in anger and in pain, realizing Mom's referring to his bullying. Aaron looks at me, and once seeing I'm OK if he come closer, he sits down next to me, his arm wrapping around my waist, holding me close to him in an effort to comfort both me and himself. I rest my head on Aaron's shoulder, the warmth his body gives helping to calm my jittery mind.
Damon stands between Mom and I, glaring at her in fury. "Shut up! Just shut up! I've already had my share of abusive moms, I'm not going to put up with you bitching about your fantasies of who Skye is! I don't give a damn what you thi— you know what, nevermind! I do give a damn what you think of my best friend, because he deserves so much more from you! I don't know what the fucking hell made you such a damn bitch, but you should open your fucking eyes and see what you're fucking missing!"
Damon pauses. He takes a deep breath, and as he continues, his words coming out slower, calmer, but just as furious, his voice full of venom, I know he's beyond pissed. Damon's an emotional person, to reach the level of anger where instead of screaming, he speaks with an almost calm air, you know you've dug your grave and there's no escaping.
"You don't deserve Skye," Damon growls. "You don't deserve the title of his mother. So get the fuck out or I swear to fucking hell someone's gonna need to hold me back to stop me from beating you to a bloody pulp."
Mom bristles, her eyes flashing in anger. "Don't you dare talk to me like that in my own house, brat. Didn't your mother ever teach you your manners?"
"She taught me I don't need to respect and love people just because we're related," Damon spits. My eyes narrow and I make a mental note to ask him about what means later. "I don't know how you can just stand there bitching about Skye, but whatever you think about him is wrong. So I'll say it again. Get the fuck out."
"Only if I can talk to Jeremiah alone."
Dad's eyes narrow, but after glancing at me, he nods once, following Mom downstairs, saying, "pack what you can, I'll be back to help as soon as I can be."
As he leaves, purposely stomping the whole way to show clear displeasure in a manor that makes Damon grin, I kneel down next to my bed and reach under, cringing at the feel of a few spider webs and trying not to think of where the spiders who made them may be. I pull out my old suitcase, dusts with thankfully only a few webs on it, no spiders clinging to them. I brush the webs off, setting the suitcase on my bed next to Aaron.
"Skye," Damon says as I start pulling the small memory-holding trinkets out of the dresser drawer and setting them next to the suitcase. "I want to help you, you know that... and I think one of the first steps you can take towards healing is to accept that, well, she's not your mom."
My brows furrow in confusion as I turn to him. "What?"
"That woman is not your mom, not anymore," Damon says. He stands in the corner of the room, hugging himself and seemingly trying to curl into himself to appear smaller. He's looking down, and honestly, he looks defenceless. "Maybe she was once but... the caring woman who once took care of you is gone. I know you'll have a lot of memories with her, but now, that's all they are... Memories."
"Damon, what are you saying?" I ask, still sort of confused and denying the part of me that already knows what he means.
He looks up now, his eyes meeting mine. "You need to stop thinking of her as your mom. It's... hard, I know it is, but right now, all she is is your abuser, the one who hurt you and made your life hell. You can't keep hanging on to hope that one day she'll turn around and go back to loving you, because it's not likely she ever will... I'm not trying to be harsh, Skye, but it's the truth."
I sigh heavily, sitting down on the end of my bed. "I know... I guess I've always known, I just didn't want to think about it. She was all I had."
"Well," Aaron says softly, "not anymore."
"Say it, Skye," Damon murmurs. "Say she's not your mother until you believe it. It helps, you won't feel as bad leaving her. At least, I didn't..."
Damon looks away again, hugging himself tighter.
"Damon," Aaron says worriedly.
"I'm fine," he whispers. "I'm fine. Bad memories."
My eyes narrow, curiosity growing. Something must have happened with his mom when he came out, something that seems to be similar to my experience. I'll ask him later, at a better time.
I decide to do as he asked, because it makes sense. I still see her as my Mom, and I feel bad leaving her alone in the house. I have to accept that the caring, loving woman I knew for most of my life is gone.
"She's not my mom," I whisper, eyes focused on my hands in my lap. "She's... she's not my mom. The woman who cared about me, loved me, is gone... gone..."
I don't react as I feel Damon's and Aaron's eyes on me. I just continue whispering those words. I can feel myself giving in, the resolve to continue caring for her slowly disappearing. I don't feel so compelled to care about her, to constantly worry about her. Yes, I still care, but not as much as I did. I can leave this place and not feel the need to come back and make sure she's OK.
She's not my mother anymore.