Orphic//H.S.

Chapter 08

Toni

You're weak.

Worthless daddy's girl.

Nothing but a spoiled brat, just asking to get slapped around.

Maybe if you weren't so weak, you could have helped her.

But that's all you are; weak. Just like she was, and just like you'll always be.

Asher's words flowed through my head, making me physically sick. I wish I could disagree, tell him he's wrong, but I can't. I can't because I'd be lying to not only him but to myself. Everything he said is the truth, no matter how hard it is to take.

I mean, here I am, collapsed in front of my toilet, sitting next to a spilled bottle of vodka. If I wasn't as weak as he said, I wouldn't have let him get to me. I wouldn't have ignored Harry the whole ride back. I wouldn't have burst into tears the minute I walked through the door. I wouldn't have gone through over half a bottle of alcohol as soon as it all became too much.

But here I am, sick and miserable. My cheeks are flushed and my body is racked with cold chills no matter how warm my apartment is. Seraphina is clawing and whining helplessly at the bathroom door, but I don't want her in here.

I would've called Sam. I should've called Sam. But after Liam called, still not knowing where she is, I realized it wouldn't have been worth it. She disappeared last night, and she certainly wouldn't just reappear only because I need her.

It's better I'm alone anyway. This is what I deserve. I'm a terrible person. I've killed too many people to even be considered sane. Hell, I practically killed my own mother. If that doesn't prove how horrible I am, I don't know what does.

Oh, God.

If Harry ever found out-

He would never want to see me again. I don't blame him, I would do the same. I'd leave myself too if I could. Mom is lucky she isn't stuck with me anymore.

Another wave of sickness rolls over me as the thought of losing someone else clouds my head. I hunch over the toilet, clutching my stomach, and releasing anything left in my stomach. I know there can't be much left to throw up.

Between barely eating last night, puking early this morning, and only eating about half of my breakfast, I was feeling more miserable over the fact that there was nothing in my stomach rather than the actual vomiting part.

Weak.

Worthless.

Spoiled.

Help her.

"I'm sorry, Mom...So fucking sorry." My tears hit me like a steamroller. I tilted my head back against the wall, staring up at the ceiling. I wish she could know how sorry I was. I'd give anything to just hold her one last time. Tell her what she means to me.

Everyday. Every day for fourteen years I've wished that. Just to see her bright eyes or hear her voice singing softly while she eased her way through the kitchen. I remember the smell of pancakes in the mornings as if it were right outside the door.

I remember her laugh whenever I would try to jump up onto the counter, and the one time she held me, a crying mess because I had slipped when I jumped, smacking my head off of the granite.

I remember everything about that house too. Right on the outskirts of Sicily, three houses down from Nonna on the right and four houses from Zia Marie on the left. Always surrounded by family, laughter, and love.