Charity Rain (Charity Series Book 5)(35)

By: DeAnna Kinney

It wasn’t quite dark yet, but the sky outside my window was tinged with a purplish hue. My stomach growled and I realized I was getting hungry. There was probably nothing in the house. Mom wasn’t good at keeping a stocked fridge. More than once I’d teased her that she couldn’t keep a boyfriend because she had no domestic skills. A guy would think she hung the moon, until she had him over for dinner. One bite of her lasagna and he’d be scared away for life.

We were also broke. Doing hair paid okay, but not if that was the only source of income in a family. Maybe I should have taken Mom up on her offer. Otherwise I’d end up eating peanut butter out of the jar for dinner. Decision made, I scurried down the hallway, just in time to find Mom grabbing her purse and heading toward the front door.

“Hey,” I called after her, “wait up.”

“What?” she turned, a blank expression cloaking her face.

“I changed my mind. Dinner sounds great.”

Mom bit her lip. “Oh, I’m sorry. I called Carol and she invited me to go out tonight.”

“What am I gonna do?”

“I don’t know. Whatever you want.” Mom pulled a bill out of her wallet. “Here. That should be enough to pick up something for dinner.”

I snatched the money and mumbled, “Thanks.”

Mom smiled, waggling her fingers with her long dagger-like nails at me. “Don’t wait up.”

Don’t worry. I never do.

When the door closed, the silence enveloped me. I examined the money in my hand trying to figure out what I could buy for five dollars. Even though now I didn’t feel so hungry. I threw the bill on the kitchen table and trudged back down the darkened hallway. Swallowing the knot in my throat, I entered the bathroom.

It’s not like I was surprised. I was always the backup plan. No one truly wanted me. No one chose me. Not my dad, who left when Mom told him she was pregnant. Not Caleb who only wanted one thing, or any of the other boys for that matter. Not my mom, who would rather spend a night with her girlfriends than her own daughter.

Sometimes I hated my life. Sometimes I even hated myself.

You’re worthless. No one wants you. Cold swept over me like a strong wind as the familiar voice whispered in my ear. Opening the medicine cabinet, I dipped my hand inside. When my fingers located what I wanted, I grabbed it.

Sitting down on the closed toilet seat I held out my arm. For a split second I almost lost my nerve.

Do it. You’ll feel so much better if you do.

Shivering as if my veins were filled with ice, I brought the razor blade to the top of my arm. I held it against my skin and pulled.

For a moment I watched the dark blood spilling out and enjoyed the burning sensation. I wasn’t trying to off myself. Not yet, anyway. The cut wasn’t very deep. In a minute I would clean it up. It was just a way to deal with the pain. It was just a way to cope.

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