"This is it. Thank you," I open the door of the unfamiliar car and get out. My mom got me an Uber back home. She was still stuck in line at the bank and wasn't able to pick me up. I walk up to my house door and reach under the mat, grabbing the spare key we find under there. I unlock the door then place the key back under the mat.
It's five now. I still have to do my homework. I'm so tired though I don't feel like doing it or anything, but I know I have to. The house is quiet, empty, I think. "Dad!" I yell out, no response.
Yup empty.
I thought he would've been back by now. He went into the office early. I run up the stairs and into my room, throwing my bookbag on my bed.
That was the longest forty-five minutes of my life. I open my bookbag and grab the paper Rachel gave to me. She let me keep it. I reread the words. Jayda King CAN BE SAVED.
No, I can't, and I don't want to be.
I ball up the paper in my hand and toss it onto the floor.
It's eight now, my dad's still not back, and neither is my mom. My mom is excused because she called me and told me some of her country club friends invited her to dinner. She didn't want to go, but I promised her I would be fine. I promised her that I'll still be alive when she gets back.
I meant it too. I know she only agreed to go to it because they've hidden or disposed of every harmful thing in here. I don't even know why my mom joined the country club, probably for status reasons; my mom and dad have this need to show people that they've succeeded in life. That they beat the statistics of the average African American family, I get it, I do, but it changes them, sometimes it makes them people they know their not.
My dad hasn't called me yet, and my mom told me that he would be home soon. But she said that two hours ago, he still isn't here. Probably another reason why she decided to go, she expected my dad to be home soon, but he isn't, maybe I should call him. I walk over to my bed and grab my phone off the charger. I click his contact, and the line rings. It rings three times. Just when I'm about to hang up, he answers.
"Jayda, are you okay?" He says breathlessly.
"Uh, yeah. Are you?" I can't help the small smile that comes across my face.
"Yeah, I'm OK." He responds vaguely.
"Why are out of breath? Where are you?" I ask.
"I'm at the gym." He says.
"Oh."
"Are you okay?" He asks again.
"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just I'm home by
myself-" before I can say more, he cuts me off."By yourself? Where is your mother?" He urges.
"She went out to eat, with some people from the club."
"She what?!" He shouts.
"She thought you were going to be back sooner; that's why she went." I'm trying to smooth things over for my mother. I know he's mad she left me home alone, but technically it isn't her fault she honestly thought he would've been back. He was supposed to be back hours ago.
"It doesn't matter. I'm on my way. And Jayda, please don't, don't do anything reckless, please. "Before I can say anything more, he hangs up the phone.
I throw my phone back on my bed and walk over to my desk. I sit in my chair and stare at the blank sheet of paper in front of me. The only thing on it is To be Or Not To Be. Oddly enough, it's the question I asked myself every day.
YOU ARE READING
You're Not Enough
Teen FictionThe first installment of the "Enough Series" follows Jayda King a seventeen year old girl with a broken soul. She returns home from spending six months in a mental health facility because of a failed suicide attempt. The facility helped none, she st...