heaven's child » j.o

0.7

I have no idea what I was thinking. I still don't. These were the only two thoughts I had cycling around in the circles of my head. What on God's earth was I actually going to do? I deleted his number, so I cannot call, text or even leave a voicemail. His Instagram account doesn't follow mine anymore, meaning if I were to DM him, he wouldn't read it unless he checked the "requested messages" section—which he never has and never will. The only thing I have is his Twitter, but his management has access to that. Am I really going to selfishly reach out to him knowing that people who don't belong in this situation may find out and get involved? Because when I think about why I even got in the car in the first place, it's not at all because of Michael; it was always because of me.

Me, me, me. It's always about me. When the hell am I going to finally grow up? When am I going to ever start to learn how to do things on my own? I have a damn child in my house, and look where I am! I'm in a car, selfishly contemplating to try and see a man who left, and my mother with two of my closest friends are at home worried sick while forced to take care of my child. This is ridiculous.

I angrily hit the steering wheel and turned the car off, getting out and walking back up to my apartment. Things are going to change, and they're going to change now.

"Mom, Kyah, Charli, get out. Now." I locked the door, throwing the keys on the counter. "Take your stuff and go, please. I've had enough."

My mom's eyes spelled something of disgust and pain, obviously due to the fact that after all she's done, I'm kicking her out. "If you cared to notice, the baby is currently sleeping in my arms, so unless you want to wake him up and deal with an hour of crying just because you want to suddenly kick us out for God knows what reason, be my damn guest!"

"Carmen," Charli sighed. "What is this? We're here for you, what, everyday nearly the entire day? Why are you now wanting to kick us out?"

"Guys, this really is nothing complicated or personal, I just—"

"You know," Kyah said, with tears in her eyes as she walked out of my bedroom, backpack hanging from her left shoulder. "If she wants us to leave, then so be it. All I know is if I could count up to total hours I was here to help you, that time would've been enough for me to finish school."

"Kyah—"

"No!" She laughed, stopping right in front of me. "I'm done trying to do everything for you but never being enough. You want me to leave? I'll leave."

Kyah walked out the door, and in that moment, something switched in me.

"Charli you don't have to leave, please, I didn't—"

She smiled sadly at me, getting off the couch. Walking to my bedroom, she walks out a few seconds later with her backpack in hand.

"I'm sorry," she whispered, following Kyah's steps out the door.

I stared at the door in slight dismay.

"Are you going to make me leave now? Or are you going to be smart and think responsibly and make sure I stay?"

I gulped down the feeling of tears at the back of my throat and let out a sigh. "How am I supposed to think responsibly when I barely know how to breath?"