I'm Always Here For Them

It’s her fourth relapse, and this one nearly killed her. She drank until she passed out, hit her head on the table and then the floor – cut her head open, too. No one knew how long she’d been laying there when she was found, but she was barely breathing and cool to the touch. Someone with an unclear head might think she had actually killed herself.

The bottle of Everclear is still on the table where she’d left it half-empty.

When Amy wakes up, she’s in a hospital. There’s no one near her, and then she remembers why there wouldn’t be anyone in a hospital room with her: they’re all dead or gone. David is dead. Ethan is gone. Rylan is gone. Jordan is gone. She pushed Tally away. She never properly had Clive. Athena was gone fifteen years ago, but it hurts more now because Amy has no one.

When Caleb walks in to tell her what happened, Amy just shakes her head. Why did he even bother? She would have been better off dying in her own vomit in her kitchen floor. She would have gone to the gates of Hell and faced her eternal punishment with her chin held high because she deserves it. But instead, she’s locked in this Hell, stuck here among the living who don’t care and would rather see her join those she’s lost than see her continue down this path.

“I’d like to check you into our rehab facility,” Caleb says gently, but firmly. She’s so resistant, but something in her mind reminds her that David’s last request to her was that she get clean, if not for herself then for him.

“When?” she asks shakily. Just the thought of kicking it has her pulse racing, the machine monitoring it beeping loudly.

“Now,” comes the answer.

Swallowing hard, she considers it, then nods, just once. What else can she do? “I’ll do it. Just...can I see Papa first?” Obviously, not the man. He’s dead. But the gravesite isn’t far from here, and surely it won’t be a problem.

“Of course.” Caleb smiles.

When Amy is eight, the new baby is born. She’s pretty and perfect, and everything that her mother and father could want. She stops being important because Violet is here, and Violet is more important. It doesn’t matter how well she does in school, or in training; the only attention given is when she fails, so that they can reprimand.

When Amy is sixteen, she’s barely getting by in school. Ethan is excelling. Her subpar grades are ignored in favor of his exceptional ones, so she acts out. Causes a fight just to get some attention – because it’s better than none.

And when Amy is twenty-six, she establishes early a grudge against Zoe Kattalakis. Small, pretty, graceful, sweet – everything that anyone would ever want in a woman. No one else apparently sees the sharp bitch for who she really is.

But Zoe is everything that Amy wishes she could be.

Mid-July has never before been a functional excuse for anyone to get Amy into a dress. And yet, this year, when it's pointed out that her skin might actually be paler than her scars, and her ass might be darker than the rest of her, Amy concedes. She isn't sure why.

It helps, of course, that in unassuming packaging, a small white garment box on her bed, is a small black and green dress – spaghetti straps, mid-thigh length at the most. It really is small. But it's a perfect fit, and there's only one person who knows her exact measurements.