"Call me if you need anything, promise?" Cody asked me as I got out of his car.

'Yea, I'll be fine," I said. "I just need some time alone to sort through my stuff, my thoughts... just sort of figure out what I'm gonna do..."

He nodded, "Okay, but if you need me, I'm there in a second, okay?"

I nodded, "Okay."

I leaned in his window and kissed him goodbye, then walked into my house.

It felt strange knowing that he house belonged to me now, I'd had been almost a month since I'd found out, but now I was finally out of the hospital; in my house, alone.

My mom was off in some rehab center now, but I doubted she would get better; she wasn't a strong enough person.

I sighed and raked my hand through my hair, what was I going to do?

Was I going to sell the house and everything in it? Or was I going to live here? Where would my mom go if she ever got out of rehab?

I delayed my thoughts and went to my room to go through my own things first, that would be easier.

I opened the door to my room and looked around at the chalk covered black walls; first things first.

I went to the bathroom and got a wet sponge; I wiped all my poems off the walls, mind blank as I did it. I was glad I had something to occupy my hands so my mind didn't have to think just yet.

When I was done, I looked at my walls, they shone black.

Next I went to my drawers, I looked through the things I had in them; nothing seemed of importance, within half an hour my bin was filled with knick-knacks, souvenirs, odds-and-ends and memories.

Nothing I owned really mattered.

I looked through the books I had on my shelves; I knew I would never re-read any of these, but I couldn't bring myself to throw them out, I would donate them to the library or sell them to some secondhand bookstore or something...

It didn't really matter.

Probably the bookstore, I could use the extra money now.

I looked through my closet, again, I didn't seem to have anything of importance, I didn't really need that many clothes... I would sell the ones I didn't need to a thrift store or something.

It didn't matter at any rate.

My life seemed so empty, I just didn't care.

It wasn't like when I was younger and hated life so much that I wished I was dead, now it was more like I just didn't care.

Nothing mattered. I didn't care if lived or died. My world was upside down again and I doubted that his time even Cody could set me right.

I looked around my room; it was bare now except for a few boxes of books and clothes on the floor.

I looked to my overflowing garbage can, on top sat a little glass figure that my mother had gotten me for a birthday what seemed years and years ago. I walked over to the bin and picked up the little glass teddy bear; it had been a crappy gift, but I gift none the less.

This was all my mother's fault. Why did she have to tear my life apart when I thought it was finally going straight again?

Fuelled by anger I hurled the little glass bear against the wall.

The glass smashed into a million pieces and left a dent in the wall.

Collapsed to the ground and just let myself sob openly, alone, into my hands.

She had never been there for me.

She's never gotten to know me.

I'd never known her; the real her.

The her that wasn't on drugs.

Why had she ever married my dad?

Why had she ever taken him back?

Why had they ever had a child?

What had made her think she could be a parent?

Too many "whys" crowded my mind as I sat alone on the floor and cried.

I don't know how long I cried for, but it must have been a long time, because after a while; I just didn't have any tears left. I wiped my face and rummaged through my garbage can until I found a piece of chalk.

I walked over to the dent in my wall and wrote in big loopy letters; Shattered Glass.

I underlined the title and launched right into the poem.

All the words that aren't spoken,
Build up and fill the empty space between us,
They create a wall,
Blocking you from view,
The wall builds,
Stopping us from getting closer,
I want to break down this wall,
Smash it to a million pieces,
Like glass,
I want this wall to shatter like glass,
But this wall is made of stone,
And I am made of glass,
I throw my fist against the wall,
I smash,
I smash into a million pieces,
I look down at what's left of me,
Little bits of broken glass on the floor,
You can see me too,
You just look at me,
Only look,
Don't help,
Then look away,
Walk away,
Leave me,
Shattered like glass,
I was fragile and you let me slip from your fingers,
I fell,
I fell fast and hard,
I fell and shattered to a million pieces,
And I don't know what hurt more,
The fall,
Or knowing the fact that you let me fall.

I put my initials at the bottom of the poem and stepped back to look at it.

In disgust with my sad excuse for a mother I hurled the piece of chalk at the wall and stalked out of my room.

But as soon as I left my room I found my mother's closed door in front of me.

Still angry, I punched it with all my might, the door went flying open.

Inside, I saw a pigsty. I'd never really had an occasion to go in my mother's room before, sure we had lived in the same lived in the same house, but we avoided each other as much as possible.

The bed was unmade, clothes were all over the floor, drawers were open; what was inside them spilling out. On top of all surfaces were balled up five dollar bills and small change, in total there was maybe forty-five dollars. There were incense candles that had been left burning and were now only little puddles of wax, staining the cheep furniture.

The mattress sat crooked on the box spring, for some reason, that bothered me more than anything. In this entire room of disaster upon disaster; the crooked unmade bed bothered me the most.

I walked over to the bed and tugged at the box spring to straighten it. It seemed kind of stuck, I pulled harder and the whole mattress slid off on my side.

Frustrated, I kicked the mattress; dust flew up.

That's when I noticed what covered the box spring.


Real, twenty dollar bills.

The bitch had hidden all this money.

Doubtless it was to pay for her drugs.

I pulled the money into a pile and starred at the box spring.

Across it, painted in big black letters were the words;

College Fund 10 000$ DO NOT TAKE.

It looked o pathetic and sweet at the same time, I looked at the bills, there was no way there was 10 000$ here, I counted it up.

Two-thousand-nine hundred and eighty dollars.

I counted up the loose change around the room; that came up to 39.78$

All in all it came up to 3019.78$ that was a lot of money, but no where close to what was apparently originally there. Her original good thought had amounted to next to nothing. I hadn't even finished high school, much less college.

But maybe I would. Maybe I would now; I could do whatever I wanted now.

I would put this money in the bank, I'd create an account and put all my money away; to save up for college.

I'd try putting my life together on piece at a time. It would be hard, but I'd do it.

I wiped my face and looked in the cracked mirror that hung on my mother's wall.

I'd come so far in the past two months; Cody had come back, I'd found out Tyler was in love with me, I'd lived with Cody for a while, I'd completely changed the way I looked, I'd contemplated killing myself again, my dad had come back, I'd found out I had a sister, I'd found out my mother was a druggie, I'd turned twenty and so much more.

But the biggest thing that hit me was that I was still alive.

It sounded stupid, but here I was; 21 years after I was born; neglected and abused, still alive.

I'd lived through hell, but the big thing was that I had lived. No small miracle.

I'd grown up so much in these past couple months, I was no longer a girl, I was a woman and a lady and I would face the world.

I could do it.

I sighed and looked around the room.

My mother had never gown up; she'd always been a stupid teenager her whole life, always making stupid mistakes; I wouldn't do that anymore.

It would take a while, and things would never be perfect; but I could do it.

Maybe Cody couldn't set me right this time, but I could.