22
257words
Jason sat below and I packed upstairs.
My things were few; my mother had smashed and thrown much of it already.
Two suitcases were full and Sophie hauled one down the stairs so she wouldn't get into trouble for assault.
Jason sat on the couch, eyes red.
I grabbed the frame from the table — a photo of us smiling.
I pulled out scissors to cut him out.
He put his hand between the scissors and the picture.
I pushed hard; the blades drew blood.
He looked at me with shards of light in his eyes.
"Is this necessary?" he asked.
"You were only with me for my face, weren't you? Now acting all sentimental makes me sick."
He tried to deny it and then muttered, "No. No…" I didn't listen.
I ripped the photo to pieces. Paper confetti rained at our feet.
Not only the picture was broken.
Jason stooped to pick up the fragments like he had done when I'd been on the floor picking up pills.
I watched him and felt a sudden, perverse amusement.
I left without looking back, alone once more. I had no home again.
But I wasn't afraid anymore. After falling a thousand times, the one who saved me in the end was Evelyn.
She wanted her Little Luna to be the happiest person alive. So I would live — and live better than anyone.
