Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 84203 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 421(@200wpm)___ 337(@250wpm)___ 281(@300wpm)
“I mean, that’s definitely part of it,” she says. “But, also, I love the way Edward looks at Bella. The ways he’s protective and devoted to her and would do anything in his power to make sure she’s loved and safe.” She shrugs. “Maybe if Mom had someone like that, she wouldn’t be the way she is. Things wouldn’t be the way they are.”
“Maybe,” I agree, wishing my sister would stay little and naïve for a little longer.
Her phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out—it’s an older model that a friend of mine gave me. It has a crack in the corner, but it works, and I like knowing she has one in case of an emergency.
When she frowns and then pockets it, it feels as though barbwire wraps around my heart and squeezes tightly because I know what has her sad.
“Mom’s probably still asleep,” I say.
Ellie stops in her place and spins around to face me, her harsh eyes connecting with mine. “You know I’m not a baby anymore, right? I haven’t been one in years. I know she’s a whore who cares more about herself than her kids and that you pay all the bills while she snorts what little she makes up her nose. You don’t have to lie to defend her anymore.”
Oh shit. Her words are so real, so raw, that I freeze, having no clue what to say, almost positive my mouth is opening and closing like a fish out of water.
And then she softens her features and takes my hand in hers. “I know exactly who our mom is, Sienna. But more than that, I know who you are, what you’ve done to protect me, to take care of me, and I’m sorry, but that bitch doesn’t deserve your loyalty.”
I should probably chide her for her language, but I’m too busy wondering when the hell my baby sister grew up. I don’t know whether to be proud that her attitude is all in defense of me or ashamed that, despite my best efforts to protect and hide her from the harsh truths, she knows everything.
“Lenora might’ve given birth to me,” she adds, “but you’re the only mom I’ve ever had.”
Pride. I’m going with pride.
“I just downloaded season one of Gilmore Girls.” I waggle my brows, hoping it will convince Ellie to watch it with me.
“No way, it’s still my birthday.” She side eyes me. “Gossip—”
The front door swings open, and our mom flits inside with a maniacal grin on her face.
“Oh, good, you’re home!” Mom gushes. “Happy Birthday, baby!” She lifts her arms, letting several bags dangle in the air from various expensive stores. She drops them all into Ellie’s lap and sits next to her, her eyes wide in excitement. “Go ahead, open them!”
Ellie glances at me in confusion but does as Mom says, opening the first bag. “Mom,” she breathes, staring at the bright pink bag in horror. “Is this…?”
“A real Coach purse? Yes!” Mom bounces in her seat and claps her hands. “Every girl should own one. And I know how much you love pink.”
Ellie hasn’t loved pink since she was like five, but that’s beside the point, because that purse had to have cost a few hundred dollars. And that’s only one bag.
Ellie thanks her and opens up the next bag—an expensive pair of heels she’ll never wear. Inside the next bag is another purse, the one after that has jewelry, and the one after that has a laptop.
When she opens the final gift—a brand new iPhone—Ellie shrieks in excitement, thanks Mom, and then runs off to our room to go put everything away and set up her new electronics.
“Mom,” I say carefully once Ellie is gone. “How did you afford all those gifts?”
Her head whips around and she glares my way, already on the defense. “It’s none of your damn business,” she hisses. “You’re always so fucking negative, and I’m sick of it.” She stands and stalks over to me. I assume she’s going to get in my face to argue, but instead, she reaches out and grabs a fistful of my hair, dragging me off the couch and toward the door.
“What the fuck!” I shout, my scalp stinging with pain. Because of the drugs, her body is frail and unfit, and it doesn’t take much to shove her back, so she lets go. “Where the hell did you get that money? And don’t lie to me because I’ll be the one cleaning up the damn mess you’ve made, as usual.”
“All you need to know is that I don’t need shit from you anymore.”
“Until you snort through whatever money you’ve magically come into,” I scoff.
“You’re such a judge-y little bitch. I’ve had enough of your shit. Get your things and get out, for good.”
Seeing the fire in her eyes, I refrain from rolling my own. “Fine. Ellie,” I call out. “Let’s go.” When Mom does this shit, we rent a motel for the night so she can calm down. By tomorrow morning, she’ll be back to her usual non-existent, drugged-up self.