Cherry Bomb [H.S.]

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Over the past week, Marlowe and I have slowly, but surely, been getting the rest of my things out of my mum's house. We've been heading there every day, and thankfully Mum and her boyfriend have only been there once when we have. I've hated the fact that I've dragged Marlowe into this whole mess with me, but she's being her usual self. She's constantly reassuring me that if she didn't want to help me with this, then she wouldn't. She tells me that she wants to be here for me. She wants me to know that she's always here.

And although she's said that, she always makes sure to follow it up with a deep statement.

"I'll always be here for you, as long as you keep continuing to help yourself."

The words resonated with me. I knew she didn't mean them as a threat. She just had to make it known that I couldn't rely on her solely. I had to get better for myself as well.

Standing in my bedroom, Marlowe was carefully clearing off my bookshelf - organizing all the books neatly into a cardboard box. I usually wouldn't let her in, but I knew today wouldn't take as long as the others. I was cleaning out my closet and shoving piles of clothes into the duffel bags of my own, and ones that Marlowe had let me borrow. This was the last of the stuff we needed. After today, I would never have to come back here. I knew that ultimately meant never seeing my mum again, but she made her decision.

It would always be alcohol over me.

That's a choice I would make sure that I never made when it came to Marlowe and I. It would never be alcohol over her. Over her happiness. Over our happiness together.

"I think that's all of them," Marlowe says as she runs her hand over her denim clad thighs. "I've got a little over an hour until I have to be at the shoot. Do you think you'll have enough time to grab everything else?"

"I think so," I nod as I finish grabbing the rest of my clothes off my hangers.

"Is there anything anywhere else that you might want to take? That's not in your room?"

I shake my head. "I've kept everything of mine in here for years. Never trusted anyone not to mess with it."

Marlowe walks over to me, and she wraps her arms around my neck. "How are you feeling?"

I sigh as I drop the duffel bag in my hand next to the others I already had filled, and lean down to rest my forehead against hers. "It feels kind of weird. Knowing that I'll never be back here, you know? But I'm ready to leave it all behind."

When I feel Marlowe's lips press against my hairline, I hum softly. "I'm proud of you."

Her words hit me deep. Just like the tattoos on my body, they pierce my skin and sink in permanently. She's said those same words to me before, mostly about my sobriety, and although that is a big step in itself, this is bigger than that. This is me walking away from something that has weighed me down my entire fucking life.