Ten Thousand Lies by Kelli Jean Page A

muster up the energy to hand out her love. We were fed and clothed, and that was that. I was the youngest; my brother and sister had long ago left the house, being ten and six years older than me. I supposed my mother’s reserves of affection had been sapped by this point.
    My father, on the other hand, was a piece of shit. A cocaine addict and an alcoholic, he’d bled our family dry for years. He’d cheated on my mother with several women until she’d had the sense to kick his sorry ass out the door. After, he’d only come around once in a while—usually after a stint in rehab, feeling remorse for his cheating, whoring ways. But he always went back to the drugs and booze.
    I’d learned early on that a woman should never depend on a man, and men should never be given second chances. My father had had so many chances from us—to be faithful, to be clean, to be a fucking father—and each time, he’d proven to us that it was all lies.
    I dragged my suitcases into the dark house I’d called home for the last seventeen years of my life. Mom must have been at work, which would be a decent reason to forget to pick up the child you hadn’t seen in nearly two months from the airport.
    It smelled the same as when I’d left, and the familiarity should’ve given me a sense of comfort, but it didn’t. Instead, it really hit home that I didn’t belong here.
    It could be worse.
    I could have been a thirteen-year-old girl with only memories of rape and slavery while my life drained day by day from complications due to a case of full-blown AIDS.

    Two days later, I lay back on my bed, watching my ceiling fan spin lazily, resigned that the first day of my senior year of high school would start tomorrow.
    I’m so over this shit. I suddenly felt so much older than I was, that I shouldn’t have to go through the motions of this last fucking year. I wanted to run away and get my life moving in the direction it was supposed to be going, not sit here, stagnant.
    I knew these thoughts were immature, and I needed this last year to grow the hell up.
    Mom had come home after her shift at the twenty-four-hour diner she worked at when I got back, surprised I was here at all. Guilt had fleetingly crossed her features, but the look was gone before she’d hugged me and murmured that she’d missed me.
    I highly doubted she had. Just more lies, and seeing as I had had my eyes opened to some serious truths of the world, I’d dismissed it, not willing to fight for the love my mother was too worn out to give.
    Urge Overkill’s “Girl, You’ll Be a Woman Soon” played through my speakers, lulling me into a tranquil state of mind. I thought of how it was very unlikely that Ulla would ever reach true womanhood while it was practically criminal not to consider her a woman after everything she had gone through in her young life.
    It took me a moment to realize my phone was ringing, and reaching over to my nightstand, I picked it up and saw an unknown number calling. It was nearly midnight, and though I did have friends who were probably wondering if I was back, I couldn’t imagine any of them waiting this late to see if I was.
    “Hello?” I answered, knowing I sounded rude.
    “Jaime?”
    Tingles danced from my brain stem down my spine at the sound of that voice. “Ricki?”
    “Hey. Did you make it home?”
    I’d completely forgotten I’d promised to let him know when I got back. I sadly sighed. “I left my home. I’m just back in New Jersey.”
    He was silent for a moment, and then he said, “But you’re safe? You’re…”
    “I’m home,” I conceded.
    His breath came out in a rush. “You had me worried. Did you get back just now?”
    Guilt squirmed in my chest. “No. Two days ago. I’m sorry. I guess it slipped my mind to let you know.”
    “Oh. Are you okay?”
    “Yep,” I replied, hoping I didn’t sound as depressed as I felt.
    “You’re lying.”
    “I am. But I don’t know you well enough to dump my crap on you,