If there's anything Evie Barrett has learned in her sixteen years of living, it's that there's a lot more to family than blood. She's stuck by that fact since the day her mother turned her back on her so many years ago, suddenly sharing nothing more...
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revamped version babyyy please read i added like 2000 words :D
WHEN I WAS YOUNGER, I USED TO TELL MYSELF THAT I'D NEVER END UP LIKE THIS. I was so sure I wouldn't turn into whatever sort of train wreck I am now, but the funny thing about life is that no one has real control over anything. We fool ourselves into thinking that we have power over our lives when really it's the opposite. No matter how hard we try to be in charge of what happens, fate has its own agenda.
Apparently, tonight it had in mind for me to walk back to my apartment while essentially freezing to death. The air was chillier than usual for a mid-September night, my thin jacket doing close to nothing when it came to protecting me from the cold. I shoved my left hand deeper into my jean pocket, still not ready to give up the small flask of vodka in my right. It was only a temporary heat, but I welcomed the warmth it gave me. The alcohol also happened to be a nice distraction from the bruises on my knuckles that formed after the events of the past hour.
I'd been at Siegel's, an underground fight club I go to when I need something to quiet the voice in my mind. I don't fight very often, but whenever I do it's almost therapeutic in a sense. I get to release all my anger out on someone, and at the end of the night my pockets are fuller than when I first walk into the ring. Tonight was no different, and I smirked when I felt the six hundred dollars in my jean pocket. The guys bet higher against the women who fight there, but if them underestimating my abilities makes me more money, then I'll gladly take it.
I walked quickly back to the apartment, not because I wanted to be there but because I was on the rougher side of South Windsor where all the dealers and creeps love positioning themselves. As much as I knew how to defend myself, I'd rather just avoid any situations in the first place. My freezing figure also desperately wanted to escape the cold, but I guessed that back at the apartment the power had been turned off again. Whenever I wasn't around, my mother Whitney didn't always keep up with the bills. Actually, she was never the one to keep up with them. That's one of the responsibilities she threw on to me, especially because her only current form of employment was getting a few bucks from the sleazes she called boyfriends.
Still, part of me felt worried about her. No matter how shitty of a mother she was, I felt obligated to make sure she wasn't going without power. I couldn't believe myself for still caring about her, even after everything she put me through. My relationship with her was always on an ongoing spectrum of emotions. Sometimes I loved her, sometimes I hated her, but at the end of the day I always priorized her before myself and always felt guilty about something, like our fucked up dynamic was entirely my fault.
Suddenly my phone let out a faint buzz, pulling me out of my thoughts. I swiftly grabbed it from my pocket to see who it was from while simultaneously taking another sip of my flask.
