It had been a couple of days since Reed acted out on me. Aaron told me that he punched my head a couple of times after kicking over my chair.

It didn't really bother me that he wanted to beat the shit out of me, it's obvious he's dealing with some crap. I suppose I can just try to avoid him throughout the next few however many days or weeks.

My face had a couple of stubborn bruises that refused to heal and I had to keep my nose out of harms way for it to heal completely for a while but I was fine. It's not like this was the first time it's been broken.

For the past three days I've locked myself in my room, refusing to converse with anyone on the other side of my door. Ive basically lived off of water, but managed to sparingly eat the single snack I left in my bag from the plane ride. Every few hours someone would knock, though I didn't know who, I assumed it was Aaron or that other kid with blue hair. I never got his name.

I was currently in the middle of an vape session, where I practically refused to exhale after a hit. Which meant I could intake more nicotine and probably die sooner. I had been doing these a couple of times a day now, leaning out the window with my elbows supporting me.

Suddenly my session was cut short as a soft knock sounded at the door. I hadn't sounded like any of the previous knocks which were louder and more casual sounding.

Then a piece of paper slid under the door.

"Sorry" a voice echoed from the door, though muffed, I could still understand what they said. And they sounded truly sincere.

'Sorry'? What the hell does that mean? Was it an apology paper if some sort?

Confused, I took one last hit before stuffing the little machine in my pocket and quietly walking towards the door.

An opened envelope had been pushed through the crack of the wooden floor and my door. The envelope addressed to me.. from mom.

It's only been a week or something and I've already been given a letter from her? Well if she misses me that goddamn much she should just take me back. Sure dad wouldn't be happy but to hell with him.

But had the boys decided to read it? Why else would they have said sorry? What the hell, lots of respect for my privacy, obviously.

Frustrated with my "housemates" I pulled the white paper out thinking that was the only thing that occupied the envelope. Oh was I wrong.

A stash of money spilled out onto the floor. All $100 bills.

Confusion overcame me even more. Money? Why would there be money in this? And why so much?

I bend down, and slowly gathered the money, counting as I picked it all up.

A grad total of $2000.

A feeling of dread started to overwhelm me and my fingers started shaking. This isn't normal.. did.. did something happen to her? Or dad?

I looked at the neatly folded paper placed in my trembling hands. Such flawless paper, it almost reflected how flawless my mother was. Her beauty, her intelligence, her passion, everything but her love for my dad. She made a grave mistake for that. Her life has always been in the jeopardy of his hands. The hands of a lair, an untrustworthy asshole.

He had caused her so much pain, they both thought I would never notice. But I had. I had many many times.

How at night when I was merely a child and supposed to be asleep, I walked to their room to ask for a bedtime story, but as I approached their door I heard something hit the ground.

Cautiously as little me possibly could, I opened their door only to witness my father throwing around my mother, slapping her across the face, and yanking her by her long brown hair. He would viciously but quietly call her insulting words. But the few words that he'd spoken straight to her face that I, to this day haven't been able to forget were , "Once you die, that abomination will become my next fuck toy."

Mom hid it well that she was being hit by dad. Too well. There were never bruises and she was always so content and happy. I don't know how she managed but I wish she didn't. I wish she left for a better life.

I ripped opened the letter without anymore hesitation, almost tearing the precious paper. Worry pounding through my body turned to fear then to anger. Did that devil of a man do something to her?

My eyes, wide with emotions, scanned the paper viciously hoping for the best.

As I progressed through the paper, the wetness of fresh tears blurred my vision, my knees started to buckle violently and my breaths became short and shaky. Soon enough my legs gave out and my body fell to the ground landing on the floor rather loudly.

Never ending streams of tears poured down my face. My mouth, open in pure shock didn't help my breathing. Sounds of short inhales and quick exhales echoed throughout my room. Every second or so a whine would escape, but eventually my whines no longer sounded, nor did my breaths. Everything went silent.

Suddenly my door slammed open and all sounds came rushing back into my ears painfully. But truthfully, I couldn't give a shit anymore.

My blurred vision only allowed me to assume it was Brendon along with Aaron traveling right behind him.

My hands had started to grip the roots of my hair and pulled while my chest was hurting from the lack of oxygen that my lungs received.

Arms elegantly but quickly wrapped around my chest as Brendon engulfed me into a hug.

Aaron stood a few feet away from us and the sounds of the others were emitted from my doorway that was no longer blocked by my door.

I could see them all crowded around the entrance, though I couldn't make out the emotions on their faces, I hated the attention. But my tears wouldn't stop.

Brendon hugged me tighter as another wave of panic and realization washed over me.

"I'm sorry," and "You're going to be ok" he repeated in my ear

I could only vaguely hear myself call out a single word, but it made an atmosphere like no other I had been in, a feeling of pity and hurt for me came from everyone.

"mommy" I had sobbed out.

She killed herself.