[[Author's note: Hello my wonderful readers! I can't believe this story has blown up like this! Thank you so so much for your support!! I am trying to get on a weekly update schedule but I am currently finishing college/about to start externing and life has not been my friend haha. But I have the entire story pretty much mapped out now and will be doubling my efforts to get chapters posted! Thank you again for supporting me and my story I love all of you!

Leah was sitting across from me complaining once again about boys, Tallulah and Naomi in full compliance. I had given up trying to avoid her, the previous day's activities leaving me aching and emotionally vulnerable. I needed something stable to cling to, no matter how outlandishly desperate it felt. I'd be meeting my mother later and while the child in me leapt for joy at the prospect of attention from her, the bitter teenager quickly snapped and reprimanded her, reminding her that it was all just for show. She didn't care, she just didn't want to feel guilty.

I should've been upset or angry. But instead I was characteristically calm. I pushed the feelings away, stuffing them deep down and locking them away. Out of sight, out of mind.

I stared down at the turkey sandwich in front of me. I began scarfing it down, imagining it was the ubiquitous sense of dread hanging over my head. At least I would get something shiny and new from the encounter this evening. Maybe another pair of shoes.

What a nice trade for forgone parental rights.

A sharp pain in the back of my mouth brought me back to the present. I glanced up quickly to make sure no one was watching and politely spit the food bolus into a napkin and gasped. Sticking out of the smashed bread and meat was a shard of glass the size of my thumbnail, tinted pink with blood. Immediately my heart was racing. How had that gotten there? Had I done this? Spitting out the remainder of the food, I stood in shock as more glass came with it. What was happening?

A wave of nausea overcame me at the sight, and I was forced to vomit. It spilled onto the stark white lunch table, fragments of the crystalline substance glinting amongst the deep sangria that was making its' way towards Leah. I wanted to warn her, but I couldn't form words. My mouth was repeatedly being sliced open as crystals kissed my tongue and hard palate, filling my nose with the scent of fresh blood. Splinters colored a sickly vermillion came out with each wretch and continued to flow. Leah's face was liquid paper white and she stood there in disbelief, Tallulah and Naomi were nowhere to be seen suddenly.

"You-you're disgusting," she recoiled in horror when I tried to reach for her, my eyesight fading in and out from suspected blood loss. The scent and taste of iron was overwhelming.

"What have you got to say for yourself?" The depression hummed in my ear, planting itself firmly on my shoulders, forcing me to my knees. I was drowning in blood. It was coming out of my nose now, streams of the red-hot fluid joining the near constant hemorrhage flowing from my lips. I was dying.

"Just say it Devi. Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!" Leah was over me now, her face flushed and angry as she chanted the phrase like a mantra. I couldn't form words. I couldn't think.

Her words were becoming less human, blurring together into a distress call.

Suddenly my eyes were open. My alarm was going off right in front of my face. I shrieked and threw it away from me. I was in the living room of my house. I was safe.

"Bad dream?" My father inquired nonchalantly as he walked into the kitchen dressed in his normal work attire. "You were tossing and turning a lot in your sleep."

"Yeah... really bad." I could barely form the words, the taste of pennies still in my mouth despite the fact I was conscious. I sat up, noticing the afghan from the couch was draped over me. He must've placed it on me while I was asleep and grabbed my phone.

"You wanna talk about it?" His back was to me, obviously on the hunt for breakfast.

Not bothering to answer, I ran a shaking hand through my tangled hair and walked briskly to the bathroom. Flicking the light on and rushing in front of the sink, I gripped the white porcelain until my knuckles throbbed as I stared into the mirror.

Common sense told me it was only a dream that I'd bled on myself and yet something in me compelled me to look myself over anyway. The same angry yet lifeless blue eyes stared back at me, nestled between sleep-crusted eyelids. My face was pale, and my lips cracked and dry. My tongue flicked out to wet them, only helping momentarily. What was I looking for? Whatever it was, I didn't find it and I turned away with a burst of frustration.

My heartbeat was still in my throat, but I forced a slow breath in through my mouth and out through my nostrils.

The silky voice in my head chuckled at my pain before settling somewhere deep in my brain.

Dad yelled what I assumed was a goodbye before I heard the front door shut, the force of the action vibrating through the house. I could've told that man exactly what was going on, but it wouldn't matter. An addict can't help an addict.

I snorted at the prospect but sighed as I left the bathroom. I needed to get ready for school.

**

"Hey girl missed you yesterday what happened?" I knew the question was coming and yet I was still unprepared to answer it. I felt so unlike myself. It had been months since I'd been this poignant and deranged. Was I getting worse?

"Oh uh, long story." It wasn't technically a lie. I avoided her gaze, but I could feel it boring holes into me.

"Is there something you want to tell me?" She interrogated. I could hear the suspicion in her musical voice. A cold sweat broke out along my forehead and images from my dream flashed through my mind at hyper speed. I could feel my pulse quicken.

"Listen, I saw you with my brother. Are you guys like, a thing? I'm not mad but I'd like you to be upfront with me," Immediately, my thoughts stopped. is what she thought it was about? I couldn't stop the laugh from pouring from between my lips.

"What?" I giggled as I looked her in the face. Her brow was knitted but her eyes were kind.

"I'm being serious. I mean, I don't know how you did it because Judd is like, a serial killer in the making but I just want you to be honest with me. He's my brother after all."

"We just smoked a joint," I chuckled. Of course, she thought that was what I was hiding. Although now that we were broaching the subject, my interest piqued, momentarily distracting me from the fact I was about two seconds away from falling to pieces.

"So, you don't like him or anything?" She was watching me like a hawk. I couldn't wrap my mind around the fact we were having this conversation.

"Yes Leah, I have the biggest crush on him. I've been secretly in love with your brother all this time and I've been using you to get to him," I joked before continuing. "I don't even know your brother. I mean, he's attractive but Devika Black doesn't do 'feelings' in case you haven't noticed," I was brutally honest and immediately she started squirming uncomfortably before answering.

"Alright well good. Because I wanted to ask you to be my plus one for my aunt's wedding next week and I didn't want it to be awkward." The air between us was suddenly thick as she fumbled with her reply and played with a strand of loose blonde hair.

"Sure, although I'd totally bone him though given the chance," I winked, and her face immediately scrunched up in disgust.

"Okay ew, too much information," immediately the tension was lifted, leaving the mood lighthearted.

"I bet he'd let me," I snickered, further taunting her. I'd already considered the possibility on several occasions mentally. The idea out loud felt alien though, especially confessing it to Leah.

"You're disgusting," a grin spread across her face, sending a cold chill down my spine. Why were there so many similarities between my dream and this scenario? Surely this wasn't coincidence?

"I bet he likes 'em nasty," I replied coolly, playing off her words and suddenly focusing ahead as the teacher strode into the room.

She shook her head and giggled, following my lead and facing forward to pay attention.

**

"I swear every time I see you you look older."

"Is that supposed to be a compliment?" I replied, facing the glass window of my mother's black Acura, preferring to watch the world melt by than face her. The leather passenger seat I was nestled in was as cold and unmoving as the air between us. Her face was tanned and there was the beginning of crow's feet at the corner of her eyes. She looked older as well, but I wouldn't insult her. Yet.

"At your age yes, at mine no."

Her joke fell on deaf ears.

We pulled into the mall slowly amongst the throngs of traffic. My mother's cold steel eyes were on the road, but I knew she was watching me in her peripheral vision. She hated when I ignored her.

"How's school? Have you met any cute boys?" Her attempts at conversation were getting under my skin, settling just under the epidermis and festering like scabies. Instinctually I scratched my arm.

"It's fine, I have lots of friends and everything is fantastic in my life," I remarked with enough sarcasm to earn me an angry frown from the woman beside me. I enjoyed angering her. What right did she have to be happy?

She didn't want to argue though, not this early in the night anyway, I'd have to really push her to get a rise out of her anymore. I laughed mentally; of course. Why would she stoop to my level? She was above altercations with ilk like me, like my father. We were a charity case and she was doing God's work by taking time out of her busy life to be seen with me in public. I'm sure there would be a heartfelt Facebook post on her page for the whole world to see how Cynthia Black was still mother of the year, despite the tragedy that was her failed marriage.

I bit my lip so hard I tasted blood.

Despite how I felt, I would need to use my mother, the way she was using me.

"I got invited to a wedding," I started, turning on what charm I could muster. The change of subject seemed to appease her and suddenly her midnight eyes were soft and bright.

"Oh, how wonderful! Have you got a dress picked out yet? We could pick up something while we're here!"

It was exactly the response I was hoping for. I would not outright ask her for anything. Devika Black didn't have much but she had her pride.

As we hurried into the bustling building, surrounded by strangers laughing and conversing I felt a pang of envy. We walked an arm's length apart, my mother afraid to catch my poverty while I didn't want to be seen in public with her and her designer boots and matching purse. I pulled my leather jacket around me tighter.

"I wish you'd let me replace that old thing. I would have never given it to you if I'd known you were going to wear it until it fell apart," her voice was sanguine despite the insult.

I had found the black leather coat when I was thirteen while she and I were cleaning out the attic. It was from a time when my parents were untamed and still in love. She was going to throw it away, but I had begged and pleaded to keep it even though it was two sizes too big at the time. The material was cracked and creaked when you moved but it smelled like cigarettes and provocation. I felt like I was Joan Jett in that jacket, untamed and untouchable. Now the jacket was my safety net; a barrier between me and the outside world, keeping my rage and despair tucked safe inside against it's frayed polyester lining.

"It's got character," I replied glancing down. It was worn down with age; a faded grey splotch here and there along the sleeves, the left pocket had a hole in it and couldn't hold anything smaller than a wallet for fear of losing it, and the silver zipper had been replaced with an off color gold one when it broke last year. It wasn't pretty but it was warm and held memories and was mine.

Swallowing the annoyance radiating in my chest I let her lead the way, offering an occasional 'uh huh' while she spoke about all the nice things in her life. She led me into some brightly lit shop with too-thin mannequins dressed in sequined dresses and long boots posed dramatically at the store front, all the while squealing about finally taking her daughter dress shopping.

Immediately she was combing through racks of clothes, pulling out various styles of dresses and holding them up to me for approval. Her smile seemed genuine as she poured over the endless options. She always enjoyed playing dress up and pretend. Even when I was younger and while I enjoyed it as a child, now it was infuriating. Watching her left a sour taste in my mouth. She was so far from the woman I knew; her white blonde hair I wish I'd inherited was pulled into an artful updo and her boots clacked on the tile as she walked. Her entire aura screamed synthetic and rich. She was the secretary and lover of one of the best lawyers in the area and she was happy to flaunt it.

The sour taste in my mouth was turning bitter the longer I watched her, my eyes narrowing into slits.

"What do you think?" Her question caught me off guard, bringing me out of my seething thoughts. She was holding up a navy cocktail-style number with a plunging v-neckline. The top half was encrusted with midnight colored lace and it featured a rich satin pleated A-line skirt that stopped midthigh. It was beautiful.

"It's uh," I stuttered over my words and walked cautiously over to it, fingering the genuine lace with butterfly soft touches. I was afraid I was going to tear it; I'd never seen something so pristine and elegant.

"That's the one isn't it?" Cynthia gave me a knowing grin and thrust it into my hands. I clamored over myself to hold it, the satin soft and cool against my hands.

"Go try it on!" She pushed me towards the dressing room.

Unthinking, I wandered into the nearest stall and locked it behind me. The only noise around was the tiny click of the lock and my own shallow breathing. I hung the fabric up gingerly on the available hook, as if just the movement of lifting it would tear it to shreds. Shedding my jacket almost shyly, I folded it and set it down before shucking out of my tee shirt and shoes simultaneously before shimmying out of my jeans.

Standing in the small space in nothing but my bra and panties, I caught a glance of myself in the mirror as I reached for the dress. My alabaster skin was nearly transparent, marred by the occasional scar and thin lines of blue where my lifeblood pulsed just under the surface. My breasts were barely a B cup and my hip bones jutted out from my pelvis. I couldn't help but feel analogous to a ghost, or at least a former shell of a woman.

My cheeks burning painfully, I grabbed the dress and yanked it over my head, eager to cover my bones and pale flesh.

Turning around, I gasped.

The dress hugged my form like a second ultramarine skin, hugging my curves before flaring out at the waist elegantly, the deep royal satin a beautiful contrast to my milky white skin.

"Well? Let me see!" My mother's voice shattered my train of thought, bringing with it a sense of dread blooming in my heart.

Sighing, I opened the door while rolling my eyes. She did not disappoint.

"Ohh look at you! You look so beautiful!" She grabbed me before I could move and brought me into a awkward hug. I stood rigid as a board at the sudden affection, unsure how to get away.

"This is perfect, let's find some shoes and get out of here. I'm starving. Unless there's anything else you want?" Her voice was enticing as she released me promptly, her gaze reminding me of a predatory animal. I wasn't sure how much longer this temporary accord between us would last.

"No." I answered quickly. I wouldn't milk this any further than I had to. I was feeling more and more uncomfortable with every passing minute I spent with her. The sooner we got this little 'date' over with, the sooner I could get home and away from this woman with her bottomless wallet and fake smile. I all but ran back into the changing room to peel the dress off and get back into my own clothes.

"Let's see if they have matching heels," her grin was all teeth a few moments later once I was standing in front of her again; it reminded me of a rabid dog preparing to attack. It made my skin crawl.

I groaned but allowed her to pull me towards the wall of shoes.

**

"Are you eating enough?"

I didn't even look up from the mostly untouched basket of french fries in front of me. What appetite I'd had was gone the moment she'd started firing off questions.

"I'm fine."

"I worry about you Dev," Her hand motioned towards me softly before falling back onto the table.

"I said I'm fine Mother," I couldn't stop the irritation I was feeling from creeping into my tone. No one called me Dev but her and the pet name made my blood boil. Absent parents don't get the privilege of pet names.

"Is your father still working long hours?" The woman kept pressing, despite my attitude. She was one of the few people who were unaffected by my 'get back' stare and approach and as the night was winding down, she was becoming more and more comfortable with asking probing questions and inserting herself into my life.

"Some of us don't have rich boyfriends," I replied with enough animosity to get my point across, hoping she'd back off.

"He still has an obligation to your well-being. I know how you like to wall yourself off Dev. You are your father's daughter through and through," her eyes were steel and cut right through my defenses.

"Yeah well at least he chose to stick around which is more than some people can say." This was it. The peace had lasted long enough and just like every other time we spent more than an hour In each other's presence, the treaty had broken, and we were back to circling each other with hackles raised and teeth bared, demanding the other surrender like alley cats.

One of her eyebrows raised questioningly before returning to its' place while her mouth formed a tight line. I was pushing her buttons and getting under her skin as much as she was mine. I might've been my father's daughter, but my antagonism was my mother's.

The waitress interrupted our metaphorical cat fight long enough to refill our drinks before walking away.

"I want you to come live with me."

Her sentence hit me like a brick.

"That's a terrible idea." It wasn't even a thought before the phrase left my mouth.

"Phil and I have been talking and I think you need stability and he knows a wonderful therapist-"

"Excuse me?" The small flame kindling in my chest was now suddenly a roaring fire. I was barely able to contain myself as I stared at her and tried to keep my trembling hands attached to the table.

"Devika you need help," her voice was matter of fact as she sat up straighter and raised her chin.

I couldn't contain myself.