CHAPTER 2

"I wish you told Sergio that you were leaving today. I think he would have appreciated it a lot." My mother looked at me through the rearview mirror as she drove and trailed off at the lethal expression in my eyes.

Sergio was my step father. Nice guy, at least that's what I thought. Anybody who could put up with my mom was a nice person. But niceness was the least of my concerns. Niceness was as strong a vulnerability as fear. It was nothing to be proud of.

"Well, I don't fuck about his emotions. That's your job, not mine." I scoffed. "You can tell him yourself." With that, I looked outside the window and hoped she'd get the hint that I was not up for any conversation with her. Leona was an absolutely flawed person and one of her uncountable flaws was her inability to read the room. She was slow as fuck.

"Chrystabel, you're just being rude right now. Sergio really loves you and he wished you let him in a little. What's so hard about that? You should be grateful to him, at least for housing you." I whipped my head so fast and looked at the rearview mirror. Sure enough, she was staring at me through the mirror with an eyebrow raised, as if daring me to refute her statement.

"Fuck you! Last I checked, I didn't ask to be here. I was pretty fine where I was." I shot her daggers with my eyes. If looks could kill, she'd have been dead.

She sneered. "Well, I beg to differ. Being found face flat on the floor in Regent Street countless times is far from fine, sweetheart." Wow, she really was bringing out the big guns. Classic Leona

"Whose fault is that? While you were fucking around in the US and trying to get your life together, mine was falling apart at the freaking seams. So don't try to act like you're a good person. Don't even try to act like the bigger person. You're trying to atone for your damn sins and salvage whatever is left of your conscience. And if dear old Sergio's feelings get hurt in the process, that's his problem not mine. And I'm done talking to your ass this morning." I plugged my ear pods to drive home my point.

Back in Jamaica, I used to date Rajan. He was a dealer and lived on Regent Street. Little wonder I always passed out there. A particular day I fell and hit my head on a table. The edge was jagged and cut me in the scalp. Unfortunately, everyone was too inebriated to notice and I bled out on the cold, dirty floor. I let out a shaky breath as I remembered that incident. What could I say? I was one tough motherfucker to kill, death was probably tired of knocking. He didn't stand a chance.

I'd been sober for 21 months. That was the longest I'd been sober since I was 10 years. It always felt weird to be honest. Sometimes my nose itched to get the sensation of those powders but I ground myself against it. I'd fallen one too many times and I was scared I'd fall into my grave someday. I damn near died a few years ago. Took major balls but yeah, I'd been sober for a fat minute and I intended to stay that way. I drifted away with that thought.

A stupid swerve and my head hit the window. One of my earpods fell to the car floor and I scowled at my mom through the rearview mirror. "Seriously?" I grumbled.

She shrugged and hummed tunelessly. I exhaled another breath and started my search for the pod. I came back up and my eyes clashed with hers in the mirror again. At that point, she might actually crash the stupid car.

"You should have cut off your dreads." What??! She had to be joking, right?

"Excuse me?"

"I'm just saying." She shrugged. "Dreadlocks will make you stick out like a sore thumb and attract unnecessary attention, just stating facts"

I blinked. I raised my brows. Then I cracked up. I did all sorts of drugs in my prime but that is a whole 'nother level. "Big deal. A few loser kids notice me, so what? At least, they'll pay attention to me, unlike a certain somebody." I stared pointedly at her through the mirror.

At least she had the decency to flinch and look away. Ha, thought as much.

"Baby, let's not rehash the past today. It's supposed to be a happy day for you and I'd love it to remain that way." She pleaded.

"Ma'am, you're not in the position to talk about what makes me happy and what doesn't. You're not in the position to do anything other than give me money. Or you're still going to slink away from that too?" I huffed and closed my eyes. My panic symptoms were starting to kick in. I bit my lips to distract myself. I was a fucking volcano at the moment.

There was silence and I even fell asleep for a while. After a few moments, I woke up and found Leona staring at me, then I looked around. We were at McKelley University. I was excited, frustrated, happy, sad, pained. Infact, a kaleidoscope of emotions but I had to hang on to one of those emotions, so I chose apathy.