Interlude: Shattered

"Can I come in?"

It took a moment to reply. I heard the question, I just didn't know how to say no.

"Jade?"

I nervously looked behind me, hoping for something to distract me, to pull me out of this awful, awkward confrontation that I was definitely not ready for this morning. "Umm…actually, I need to come out." Oh, brilliant, idiot. "Of the house," I quickly added. "Just move."

I shoved Beck a few steps back and slipped outside my front door. The morning was crisp and pleasant, and the neighborhood smelled of freshly cut grass. I could pick out at least three different lawnmowers hard at work even at this ungodly hour. But what else do the rich have to do besides mow their perfect lawns and try to stick their noses where they didn't belong? I bet at least four of the desperate housewives on my block were watching us from their windows.

"Okay, we're out," Beck said. "Why are we out?"

"Because I'm busy and I don't want to do this where my mom can hear."

"Do what?" His dark eyes shone in the morning sun and my knees shook. I couldn't think of a time when he wasn't the most gorgeous boy I'd ever known.

"Whatever this is," I said impatiently. "What do you want?"

"I want to go inside and talk," Beck said patiently. The earnestness in his eyes made me uncomfortable. I knew exactly what he wanted to talk about, and I didn't want to. "But I guess we can do it here. Look, the other day…I reacted badly. I know I did. I just…I went through a lot of effort to set all that up and I didn't think…I mean, I wasn't expecting you to say that you didn't want to go."

A pang of guilt shot through my chest as he talked about the horrible date that led to our break-up last week. He'd taken me to a fancy restaurant, a place that made Maestro's look like an In and Out Burger. He told me he'd gotten a free ride to the New York Film Academy, which for some reason I couldn't work out was actually located in South Beach, Florida. Everything was paid for, a four-year experience. It was incredible. And he wanted me to go. He even found an apartment close to campus, and a list of possible schools for me, or studios if I didn't want to do the college thing. It was a sweeping gesture and incredibly thoughtful.

But at some point during his speech, I opened my mouth and interrupted him. "I don't want to go," I'd said.

That didn't sit well. It became an argument where he tried to convince me why I should go, which of course just made me dig in my heels and refuse to budge. By the end of the night, I was telling him why he shouldn't go, and just ignore this ridiculous opportunity.

I call what happened next a breakup, but it was really just a give-up. He brought me home and as we sat in my driveway, he said that he didn't want to choose between his past and his future, or some stupid dramatic-sounding line like that. I told him fine, I'd take the choice away, and wished him well in Florida.

From then on, it had been awkward as hell between us. Fleeting eye contact. Stilted conversations. Me, snapping at everyone even more than usual. I practically bit Vega's head off at one point. Which I have to admit, wasn't right. As much as she frustrated me–and she did, in so many ways–she had proven she was a good friend to me. She passed on the chance to date Beck during our Junior year when we broke up. Hell, she helped get us back together. Twice, in fact, since she also helped fix things between us when I got jealous over that skunkbag Alyssa Vaughn creeping on him during our Sophomore year.

This felt different. This was…I don't know. It wasn't just a fight. It wasn't a difference of opinion. It was a question: do I see you in my future? If Beck was going to Florida, then, unfortunately, that answer was…no.

"Beck, please don't–"

"I see my mistake. I made an assumption about you. I tried to do some big stupid gesture instead of just talking. Hearing your thoughts. But that's because I was so confident in us, I just…figured we'd be in it together. I shouldn't have thought that way."

My stomach flipped. We'd been dating more or less since our Eighth-grade year and in all that time he had learned exactly what to say to calm me down. Normally by now, I'd be melting into a puddle of girly goo at his feet. At least, inside. On the outside, I'd make it seem like he just barely got by this time and he better never do it again.

But I couldn't do that. Last night…something in me changed. I didn't know what. I didn't know if what I wanted for myself was changing, or if it had been a booze-induced mistake or what. As much as I wanted to avoid a conversation about it, I was struggling to understand on my own.

Beck stepped toward me, that ridiculously charming pretty-boy smile assailing my senses. My body shook. I wanted to yield to him, to fall into his arms and kiss those stupid, pouty, caramel lips. To run my fingers through his perfect hair.

But I didn't. I placed a hand on his chest, not as a sign of affection, but to stop him from moving closer. To stop him from bringing down the rest of my fragile defenses. To keep him from knowing just how fragile they–and I–really felt.

He looked at my hand, then at me. Oh, god. That hurt him.

"I don't want it to end like this," he said.

Me neither. But I can't…

Wait. He gave me an opening in the words he chose.

"Like this," I echoed. "But you know it's going to. Eventually. I'm never gonna change. I'm still the same person who met in Junior High. Jealous. Crazy. Selfish. And I'm not going to Florida."

"That isn't what I meant," he insisted. "I'm willing to figure out how to make things work long distance. We can video chat every night. I'll come home as often as I can."

I felt his weight shift; he was going to try and move closer again. I stepped back before he could. I could see it in his eyes; he was going to chase me. He wasn't going to take no for an answer, and it was going to lead to me screaming at him to get out. Or it was going to lead me to me caving in and accepting him back before I could work out the turbulence going on in my head.

Thank chrysler, neither of those happened. The front door creaked open. I braced for my mom's face at the screen door, but no; Cat stepped outside, wrapped in a towel with nothing else on, wet hair clinging to her neck and shoulders.

Cat, you angel.

She shot Beck an uneasy glance, as if she were confused–or worried?–why he was here. He sheepishly looked away, turning around to hide the red glow in his cheeks. It didn't help, but I knew mine were probably just as red. After all, I knew what was under that towel and the thought excited me in ways I wished it didn't.

"Jade, I think you're out of small towels. I couldn't find one to use for my hair."

"Okay. They're probably in the dryer. Beck was just leaving, I'll be right in."

Cat's eyes flicked from me to Beck and back again. "Kay, kay. Hi, Beck."

Beck cleared his throat, still refusing to look directly at the redhead. "Yeah, hi, Cat."

I took an underhanded bit of delight in watching him squirm, which he did until Cat disappeared into the house and closed the door.

"I guess I see why you didn't want me in there. I didn't know you had company."

I shrugged. "We were working on the scene for the showcase. And we've got plans today, so…I'm sorry, I won't be around to talk later, either."

I felt the momentum swing in my favor. The sentiment was fading; Jade was driving, and it felt good.

Until the sadness in Beck's eyes hit me. He was giving up, and it killed him. "Okay. I won't bother you, then. Please, just give it some thought. I'm willing to work it out if you are."

Damn him. Damn his charm and his charisma and his sincerity. And damn me for loving him.

"No promises."

He smiled sadly. "I'd never ask for that. Text me. I'll be here."

With an awkward wave, he was off. I nearly pulled my door off its hinges rushing to get back inside. I nearly ran down Cat; she was so close to the door, she must have been peeking out the window. Her arms were folded in front of her petite chest.

"What did he want?"

Was she really nervous? About Beck? What the hell did that mean?

"Just to talk. But I didn't want to, so he left." The worry in her eyes faded at that simple assurance. But that fact worried me. "Come on, let's get you a hair towel."

What even is my life, anymore?

If you're a seafood fan, you can't go wrong with Seaside on the Pier. It was a great time to go, too. We were in that lull between spring break and summer vacation, so the Pier at Santa Monica wasn't even all that busy.

You'd think it would always be busy, right? I mean it's an iconic location, it's been in a zillion movies and TV shows. It's paradise. But to those of us who live there, it's just another place to visit. You get used to it. Desensitized to it, even. So unless it was crawling with tourists and vacationers–which it would be within a month–it wasn't all that busy. We even scored a seat on the roof. The weather was perfect, and the breeze off the ocean was amazing.

Who in their right mind would want to leave this place behind?

"So what did Beck want to talk about? Did he change his mind about leaving?"

If she was still nervous about it, she did a better job of hiding it.

"No, he's still going. He just…he wants me to go with him."

"Oh."

She didn't do a good job of hiding her disappointment.

"Hey," I said. She glanced up at me. "I'm not going."

I thought maybe that would get a smile, but no. Just another question. "Don't you like him anymore?"

"Of course I like him. Hell, I love him. But I can't leave here. I don't want to go to Florida, or anywhere else. Anyway, we don't have to talk about him. I'll figure it out."

"Kay, kay." Cat downed another hush puppy then took a sip of her water. She looked like she wanted to say something, and I braced myself for whatever it might be. A few minutes passed and the look seemed to dissipate.

Maybe she figured it out on her own, I thought. Stranger things have happened. Or maybe I was imagining it and it had just been her normal, semi-confused look. Did she want to talk about last night? Did she even remember it? She drank a lot for a rookie and who knows how it would have impacted her. But she definitely seemed nervous when Beck showed up and it clung to her despite my best efforts to help her move past it.

Maybe it would be better to just do it. Maybe talking to her about last night would help me work out what to do about Beck. Maybe.

"Um…hey, Cat."

She looked at me and smiled. She was so insufferably adorable. "That's me."

I focused on my plate, zeroed in on a piece of tilapia, focusing all my energy on that and not on what I needed to say, because if I only thought about what I needed to say, I'd never be able to bring myself to actually say it, because I really didn't want to but was so conflicted about Cat and ohmygodwhatamIevensaying?

I cleared my throat. "Forget it," I said.

"Forget what?" Her eyes widened into massive, dark pools. "I guess I already forgot it."

I had to chuckle. "I guess so."

We spent most of the day at the Pier, did some shopping and visited the amusement park. Our conversation was light, purely fluff mixed in with a bit of nostalgia. Our impending graduation hadn't escaped my mind, although my main focus was on the Big Showcase.

"You did good last night with the scene," I said as we passed by a bunch of games. I knew these were Cat's favorite things, due to all the stuffed animals hanging everywhere. "We should still try to watch it, though. It may help you to see it."

"Kay, kay," Cat said, but I knew she barely heard me. She was on the prowl, if you'll forgive the cat joke, for a new stuffed animal. Her eyes darted everywhere, seeking out the perfect—

"There, look! Aww!"

Cat grabbed my wrist and dragged me over to one of those games where you knock over bottles to win a prize. I knew how they worked. The bottom few bottles were probably glued or stuck to the table somehow. Maybe weighted so they couldn't fall. It was a shameless scam but people didn't care.

The stuffed beast that had caught her eye was a huge unicorn, and Cat was beyond excited by it. "Look at it, it's perfect! I wanna play."

Cat pulled out a few dollars and shoved them at the operator, some greasy-faced kid whose acne was probably the least of his worries. He gave Cat three softballs. The first went a little wide. The second hit the top bottle, sending it flying. The third seemed to hit the bottom row, but it didn't move.

"Ooh, sorry, you caught the corner of the stand," the kid said.

"Dang it!" Cat cried out.

"Play again?"

"Yes!"

Cat sank another six dollars into two more turns. As her frustration grew, the throws got much worse. As she reached the end of her funds, she looked at me nervously.

"I really want that unicorn," she said.

"Then go buy one. They sell them at Wanko's for half the money you just sunk into this stupid game."

"It's not the same! I have to win it!"

I groaned. I knew we'd never get out of there if this went on longer. "Fine. Wait a second."

I motioned the kid off to the side. I spoke politely, projecting my best "nice girl" face. It physically hurt. "I think she's given you plenty of money," I said softly. "Why not let her have this one?"

The kid smirked at me. "Don't you see the sign there? It says this is a 'game of skill.' Not a game of pity."

He made to leave, but I already had his wrist in a very uncomfortable grip. His greasy face paled when he realized what was happening.

"What the—"

"Ssshhh. She's looking at us. Smile and wave." The kid obeyed, mostly out of confused pain. "Now, you're kind of a big guy. But I promise you, your size means nothing right now." I took one of the softballs out of his smock with my free hand. I dug my nail into the seams at their weakest point. "See, this ball is well-made. Heavy. Hard. It'd hurt if you got hit with it. But no matter how big or strong something is, if you just pull the right spot…" I pulled the seam loose and the leather casing on the ball began to unravel in my hand. I made sure my friend saw it, and got my point. "Well…you see what happens. So unless you want that to be you, socially or physically, how about you let the pretty redhead win that big stupid unicorn?"

He swallowed hard, his face red, a sheen of sweat covering his forehead. "Um…sure. Okay. Just let me go, you psycho."

He scrambled away from me. "Ten bucks an hour isn't worth it," he mumbled. "Okay, miss, you know what, you've spent so much here, you've earned a free bonus round." The tremble in his voice was oddly satisfying. I loved being underestimated.

"Oh, yay!" Cat said, bouncing. Well, technically she was jumping, but her breasts—petite though they were—bounced a bit. I had a hard time pulling my eyes away from them.

"Okay, Cat. Show him what you've got."

Cat wound up and threw the first ball. It hit the top bottle and knocked it clear off. Her second shot hit the stand and thudded to the ground. She threw the third as hard as she could. It was too wide and hit the back wall.

"Dang it!" Cat cried out again. She turned away, clearly upset.

The kid looked at me nervously. He quickly grabbed the long, thin, bent stick he used to collect the balls and swept it underneath the remaining bottles. They both fell at once, side-by-side, as if glued together. "Wow! Nice throw" Cat spun back around. "I've never seen a ball bounce back like that. Congratulations, winner! Here's your prize."

The kid handed Cat the unicorn. "Oh, yay! Look, Jade!" She was so overjoyed, I couldn't help but smile.

"Never doubted it." I shot the kid a pleasant smile as Cat and I walked off.

After a full day of shopping, rides, and games, neither of us were all that interested in going home. We closed out the evening with a walk on the beach as the sun lit up the horizon like a high-def explosion of pink carnations. Seeing Cat's face light up at the incredible display of natural beauty even melted my cold, unfeeling heart for a few seconds.

"Why do you think we think it's so beautiful?" Cat asked.

Well slap me around and call me Susie. You think you know a girl…

"What?"

Cat's gaze was fixed on the horizon. "It's beautiful, right? I mean, you think the sky right now is pretty?"

"Sure. It's great."

"Why do we think that? Like, what makes our brains think something is beautiful? Or ugly? Or scary? Or whatever?"

It took me a minute to really grasp what she was asking. At first blush, it seemed like typical Cat silliness, but there was a deeply profound question buried in there about the very source of our higher ideals as human beings.

"You're asking what makes beauty, beautiful?"

Cat smiled and nodded. "I think about things like that sometimes." She was suddenly self-conscious. "I'm sorry, is that a stupid question?"

'No, I think it's probably one of the smartest, toughest questions I've ever heard. I don't know the answer. God, I guess. If there is one." I sighed. "Sorry. I really don't know."

Cat shrugged. "That's okay. Sometimes just thinking about the answer can be enough. You know?"

The fading sun caught her dark eyes and lit them up like enormous, radiant, bottomless pools. My heart legitimately skipped a beat or two. Part of me wanted to reach over and kiss her, but I held back. Did she want to be kissed? I was so sick of running in this circle.

We veered off the path and walked toward the underside of the pier. I enjoyed coming here in the evening, where it was so easy to disappear into the growing darkness between the support pillars and just hide away from the world, literally right underneath the crowd.

We ventured close enough to the water that we took off our shoes and socks and let our feet get wet. Cat giggled as the sand crept between her toes and the gentle waves tickled her ankles.

We walked in that perfect sort of silence where it wasn't really quiet–we could hear the waves and the soft music from the games and rides above us–but there was no distracting sounds either. No phones ringing, no televisions, no texts. Just two people existing peacefully.

Until Cat broke it with a question that quickly brought reality crashing down.

"Jade…what happened last night?"

My heart about stopped. My mouth was suddenly dry. It needed done, I guess. We couldn't just ignore it, as much as I wished we could.

"What do you mean what happened? You don't remember?"

"No, I remember. Wow…I remember everything. It was…amazing. Magic. You made me feel so unbelievable. I just…I don't' know what it means for us."

I didn't know what to say. I had to choose my words carefully. I didn't want to ruin my friendship with Cat, and I didn't want to put any pressure on her either. Last night was huge. Transformative, even. And as much as it was true for me, it had to have been even more true for her.

"How do you feel about it? I mean, what did it mean to you? You said earlier last night you thought you were into girls. Now you know you are. Is that…"

"Oh, no," Cat cut in. "No, it wasn't like I was using you to just see. I mean I hope you don't think that. It really wasn't."

Some tension went out of my shoulders. "I didn't really think that. Just…trying to work through it."

Cat started twiddling her thumbs. "I mean I just…I couldn't think of anyone else I'd rather do that with, you know? And the drinking made me feel free. Relaxed. And I felt so warm every time I looked at you and it seemed like kissing you was the only way to handle it…"

Cat seemed to be getting frustrated. I gently took her nervous hands in mine. She met my gaze. "Hey. Relax. I…I really enjoyed what we did. A lot. I've been a nervous wreck all day trying to figure out if we should talk about it or not. I mean…it's a big deal. A big step. And if it had been anyone other than you…I doubt I'd have done it."

Chrysler those eyes. Endless pools of innocence and joy. Nauseating and disarming all at once.

"You mean that?"

I nodded. If it were possible, her smile grew brighter. Bright enough, that it even coaxed a weary grin out of my own cynical lips. We held each other's gaze there, and my stomach began to flip. Cat's smile slowly turned; her breathing deepened. Her chest noticeably heaved. I'd seen the same look the previous night.

My heart was in my throat. I couldn't breathe. Cat leaned in again. Tonight, I was ready; I greeted her kiss eagerly, welcoming her tongue into my mouth as chills took hold of me. Cat stepped closer, and I stepped back, running into the pillar. Cat pressed into me then and her hand wandered down my neck. She stopped at my breasts, giggling as she squeezed.

"They're so bouncy," she laughed between kisses.

Then her hand was gone. I thought the moment was passing until the button and zipper on my shorts came free.

"Cat, what are you…ohhhh, god."

Cat's lips curled up into a smile as she slid her hand down my open shorts and into my underwear. She gently teased either side of my slit. The contact was so unexpected, my knees shook. I was thankful to be leaning against the pillar and suddenly wondered if she had done that on purpose.

"Why Miss West, you appear to be a little excited," she whispered in this wholesome, sexy librarian kind of voice. It was a little odd, but the effort she was putting into it did something to me. I felt a rush of moisture, and so did Cat because she giggled. "Wow," she gasped, and then kissed me again.

She may have been drunk the previous night, but she seemed to remember everything I'd done to her. She recreated almost every movement perfectly right there under the pier; teasing my slit before sliding a finger in, the way she found and touched my clit, how her slender fingers probed deep within me and curled forward…

It was that last moment that found one of my hot spots. She knew it, too. The moment she curled her finger inside of me, I inadvertently bit her lip. She pulled it away. "Is this right?" she whispered nervously.

"Mmm-hmmm," I groaned through clenched teeth. "Right there…ohhh faster now. Faster…"

Cat followed my instructions to the letter, and I felt the tremors begin deep in my midsection.

"Am I hurting you? It seems like–"

I gently covered her mouth with my hand. She kept talking into it for a moment. "Please," I said growled. I was so close. "No talking. Move faster."

She replied into my hand again, but it was, blissfully, too late. The tremors shook my entire body, radiating out from my midsection, turning my legs to jelly and my arms to spaghetti. With what little strength I had, I grabbed hold of Cat's wrist and took control, thrusting her faster and harder inside of me.

"Caaaaaaatttttt," I hissed as my entire body spasmed and shook. She giggled into my hand. I rode out three waves of intense, carnal pleasure. It was fierce and surprising, far better than the meager respite I'd given myself the previous night. I clutched Cat's wrist for a few seconds after I finished.

The redhead stared at me with those wide-eyes that were barely visible as the fading sun was all but gone. She muttered something against my hand. I removed it.

"What?"

"I said, can I talk now?"

I laughed. "Baby girl, you can say anything you want." My muscles were useless; it was all I could do to keep from sliding to the water.

"Did I do it right?" Her eyes searched mine for some hint of approval.

I nodded. "Yes. Perfectly."

I shook again as Cat withdrew her fingers so she could clap her hands. "Yay!" She hesitated as she looked down. "Oh, yeah. My fingers are kind of wet now."

"Lemme see."

I took the fingers she'd used on me and, gazing into her eyes the entire time, gently licked each of them, cleaning off every drop. I smiled devilishly as I finished.

"Better?"

She raised an eyebrow. "They're still wet, but now it's your spit instead of your–"

I pulled Cat into a kiss. She resisted at first, then groaned and gave in. I pressed my tongue into her mouth, wrapped it around hers. As I ended the kiss, her eyes were already open. She ran her fingers across her lips when I withdrew and I knew she had gotten her first taste of…well…me.

"Better?"

She just stared. "Wow. So much."

I fastened my shorts and we walked, hand-in-hand, back to the car. It had been a long day. Unfortunately, it would be an even longer night.

Cat's mother had called on our drive back to my place, asking that she come home. Apparently, they were planning some family trip the next day, Sunday, that Cat had forgotten about. So, I dropped her off and drove home, finally pulling into the driveway around 10:00. My mind wasn't really any clearer. We started talking about things, only to get distracted. Nothing seemed resolved. Well, okay, a bit of my sexual frustration was resolved. But also, it was worse, because I just wanted to have an actual, proper night with Cat. A romp in the bathroom and under the pier were both incredibly hot, but I was kind of yearning for a more proper night of fun in my room. Something I'd only ever experienced a few times when I snuck Beck in while my mom was out.

Ah, shit. I had to mention his name, didn't I?

I couldn't get over the look on his face as he tried to win me back earlier that day. There was a lot of history there. He knew me better than almost anyone else, and that was a hard thing. I didn't want anyone to know me. Not the real me. But he did, and I didn't know if I wanted to throw that all away.

But I couldn't go. I couldn't leave. And then this thing with Cat…

If I let go of Beck, what would happen there? Were we going to become a couple? Date? How would our friends react? Our parents?

How would Vega react?

Ew. And why the hell did I care?

I didn't know what to do. Chrysler help me, I was desperate for advice. And as I pulled into my driveway and saw my mom sitting on the porch, I found myself pondering the unthinkable: asking her for advice.

I hadn't done it for a long time. Usually, her advice centered on whatever was best for her, so it felt pointless. But I had no other alternative. And I didn't have to care what she thought because she already couldn't stand me. She couldn't possibly think less of me than she already did. So why not?

Instead of going into the house when I reached the top step, I sat down next to her. She was still dressed, with a glass of what I assumed was chardonnay sitting on the table next to her. She didn't notice me at first, but when she did, I immediately regretted even being there.

"Well, to what do I owe this honor, my queen?"

I sighed. "Can't I just sit here without being harassed?"

"I beg your pardon, your majesty. It's just so rare that you deign to mingle with your subjects."

I ground my teeth together. Maybe this was a stupid idea. Maybe it wasn't the time to rock the boat this much. She was in a pissy mood already.

"Fine, forget it," I grumbled. I stood, ready to leave.

"Forget what?"

I ignored her and made it to the front door.

"Jadelyn."

I dug my nails into the palms of my hands to keep from turning around and…

And what? It's your mother.

Her eyes bore into me. I hated that look so much. She wouldn't speak. She wouldn't ask me to sit and talk to her. She wouldn't show a damn bit of sympathy or empathy or anything else. She'd just stare at me until I told her what she wanted to know.

"I wanted to talk about something, but I changed my mind."

"Why?"

Because you're a frigid bitch.

"You seem annoyed. I'd rather do it when you're in a better mood."

She scoffed. "If it's something that will upset me, it'll upset me no matter what mood I'm in. If you want to talk, just sit down and get it over with."

I sighed. There was no way this was going to work. I wasn't the type to have conversations about my feelings. It was a stupid idea to even try, but I didn't know what to do. If this blew up in my face, there were no second chances.

But it had to happen eventually. And since I wasn't likely to magically get advice from the fairy gaymother anytime soon, I might as well do what the frigid bitch suggested and get it over with.

I sat back down, my gaze fixated firmly on the floor of the porch in front of me. I felt her eyes on me still. A quick glance confirmed it.

I cleared my throat. Took a deep, shaking breath. I hated how she made me feel; so small and powerless. In moments like these, the Jade West all those twits at Hollywood Arts knew disappeared; she was a fraud, a joke, a fucking lame coward too afraid to stand up to her own, hateful mother.

"I, um…well. I recently found out that, uh. Well, I'm…bisexual. And I'm not sure what to do."

I shot her a quick glance. Her face was blank. I got nothing from her except a stretch of unnerving silence.

She didn't yell. She didn't scream. She didn't hug me and tell me she understood. She just sat there in silence. And when she did break the silence, it was in the worst way possible.

The bitch laughed. Every chortle, every chuckle, was a dagger through my back and into my heart.

"Jade, honestly," she said when the laughing fit subsided. "You had me there. For a minute, you had me." She chuckled. "I don't know where you get your sense of humor from. Dad's so dour and clueless, but that sure didn't come from me. Now come on, what did you really want to talk about?"

It took every single bit of strength in my body to keep the tears that suddenly filled my eyes from falling. It was an act of will so powerful, I nearly broke the arms off of the chair I was sitting in.

"It's not a joke," I said slowly. Bitterly.

"Of course it is, dear. You–"

That was it. I exploded out of my chair. I wheeled on her. "It's. Not. A. Joke! It's the truth. I just figured it out a day ago and I've been thinking about it all day, and…"

She was on her feet. Nose-to-nose with me. "And you realized you were wrong, and that it really is all a joke." I tried to interject, but she raised her voice. She had only ever done this once in my life, and hearing it happen again was more than enough for me to back down. "Because let me tell you, Jadelyn, exactly what happens if it is not a joke. Number one: you will be homeless by morning. Number two: every cent I've put into your bank account will be removed. Number three: every credit card you're on that is in my name will be revoked. Do I need to add a number four?"

I saw in her eyes nothing but disgust. Embarrassment. Contempt and maybe even hatred. Those things existed on a good day, but she hid them well enough that I could at least pretend they weren't there.

Not tonight. She had pulled back the veil and shown her true colors in the most hurtful, damning way imaginable. And you know what? It broke me.

I don't know how I didn't do something more at that moment. I could have screamed or cried or swung on her or run away. I should have. I should have had the courage to do something other than what I did.

What, you may ask, did I do?

I managed to say a single sentence. A single, cowardly, ridiculous sentence.

"You're right, sorry."

I didn't wait for a reaction. I whirled around and ran to my room. With every step, the groundswell of rage and pain and fear and sorrow built. I slammed my door. My chest heaved. My eyes burned with unshed tears. I looked around my stupid room in that stupid house owned by that stupid bitch. I hated it. I hated it all. I hated every single thing she bought for me and everything about that entire house. No, not just the house. My entire life there, with her.

I kicked over my desk chair. Some of the furious energy left my body the moment my foot my made contact. It hit the floor with a crack, and the crack sent a wave of euphoria through me. I brought my foot up and then down again, hard, on the wooden leg. On the third kick, it snapped and broke free.

I picked up the leg and swung it at my desk lamp. It hit the ground and the bulb shattered and fizzled out. My body flooded with endorphins. My higher brain functions shut down as I brought the leg down in the middle of my computer desk. After four hits, the leg snapped in half. I shrieked and hurled it towards my vanity. It hit the mirror and shattered it.

But it also hit the case which contained my most prized possession: the screen-used pair of scissors used in my favorite movie, the Scissoring. A gift from Cat.

Cat. God, what am I doing?

I hurried over to the case. It was cracked. I ripped it open and pulled the scissors out to make sure they were okay.

If I ever broke these…oh, chrysler…please be in one piece.

I carefully took the glistening silver scissors into my hands and played over their features. They were fine, and the rage and fury began to subside. I sank into the stool in front of my vanity. Glass shards littered the surface of the desk. In front of me, parts of the mirror still clung to the frame. I caught half of my reflection staring back at me.

It was one of those moments, like in a movie. A distraught character sees their face in a mirror (or a broken mirror, or a body of water) and come to some realization about themselves. That glimpse gives them some insight into their soul and they realize what they have to do.

I waited, but my inspiration didn't come. No epiphany, no flash of insight, no big dramatic moment. Just the reflection of a fraud; an emotionally broken, half-crazy teenage girl with a mom that hated her for existing and a heart that was split in half, just like the mirror, between her boyfriend of four years and her best friend. Between being who she always was, and being who she thought she was becoming.

In one last blinding flash of rage, my fist tore through that final piece of mirror that was desperately clinging to life. The flash of pain was sobering; my hand was bleeding. I didn't care. I stared at the blood as it slipped from the torn skin of my hand. It ran down the gentle slope, off the side of my fingers, and pooled on the broken bits of mirror.

I laid my head down on the vanity, leaving my hand angled so that the blood slowly continued to drip. I let the sight relax me until I finally fell into a fitful sleep, no closer to answers than I had been that morning.