Jess’s Reviews > Saving 6 > Status Update

Strewn on top of the filthy mattress was my boyfriend, with his eyes rolling back in his head, and a needle dangling from the crook of his arm.
My heart, the same heart I didn't think could be broken any more than it already had, cracked into a bazillion more pieces.

"Yes, I am," he strangled out, breaking free from my hold as he staggered away from me. "And if you don't get away from me soon, youre going to end up just like my mother."

"Look at me, Molloy. Look at who I am. Look the fuck at what I've done to you! I'm just like him."
"No." Shaking my head, I stalked right over to him and grabbed his face in my hands, roughly, raw, sincerely refuting his deepest fear. "You are nothing like him.”

"Pain,” he roared into my face, eyes alight with temper, as his shadow danced with his demons. "On the outside. On the inside. All around me Pain so fucking strong I'm drowning in it!" He ran his bloodstained hands through his hair, tingeing his blond hair a faint crimson color.
"That's what I feel. That's all I feel. All the fucking time!"

"Leave it alone, Molloy," he muttered. "I don't want to fight with you."
"And I don't want you to die!" I screamed, tears falling freely now, as my emotions got the better of me. There was something so tragic about this boy, something that I wanted to keep. "Don't you care about yourself? Not even a little bit?"

He was breathing hard, still laughing like a crazy person, as tears flowed down his cheeks.

I was completely fucking unravelling and I couldn't stop it from happening.
It had happened.
I had finally hit my limit.
I had nothing left in the tank.
Nothing left to give these people.
I was done.
Gone.
Dead inside.

Hell, I didn't give a fuck about me.
But I cared about those kids that spent most of their lives cowering in their beds.
Yeah, I cared a lot for them.
The strings that bonded us together, from my siblings' hearts to mine, were so forceful that they kept me bound to this house.
It kept me trapped.

She didn't care.
She didn't give a damn about me.
All I was good for was holding the fort.
For carrying the burden.
For taking the weight off her shoulders.
She didn't care, and that concept made me want to peel the skin from my bones.
My own mother didn't give a fuck about me.