I’ll never forget this day, and I wish it was because it was the first time Hudson kissed me, the first time I felt free from the chains holding me to this life. I wish it wasn’t because this is the day my mom fell into a downward spiral.

It happened three hours into my shift at the bar. My phone vibrated in the back pocket of my shorts, but I ignored it because we were slammed as usual. It vibrated again and again. I yanked my phone out of my pocket, irritated that the damn thing kept going off. No one ever called me. Ever.

When I saw a number I didn’t recognize on the screen, I hit ignore and shoved it back in my pocket before getting back to work, but then the damn thing went off again. It was the same number, so instead of ignoring it for the fourth time, I answered it, wanting whoever it was to leave me alone.

“Hello?” I answered curtly.

“Is this Jade Hart?” an unknown woman asked.

“Yes,” I said a little irritated that she wasn’t getting to the point.

“Your mother, Elizabeth Hart, is in the hospital. She wanted me to call you…”

She went on, but I didn’t hear a word she said. My world stopped, everything standing still, knowing that something happened to Mom while I wasn’t there, while I was out trying to have a life, she was falling apart.

My heart plummeted out of my chest, landing on the floor, and I watched it contract with each beat, covered in blood–blood that dripped on the floor, but somehow, I was still standing. I was still breathing, staring at my heart on the ground while my own mother couldn’t survive with her heart in her chest. I was living, while my heart was laying at my feet.

I stumbled back, hitting the counter and knocking over several glasses. They shattered to the ground, breaking around my beating heart, but I didn’t try to stop them. I let them crash to the floor, watching the shards fly all around me. When the last piece of glass fell on the floor, it landed in my heart, but the damn thing kept beating, contracting, but I felt the pain. The piercing glass slashed a hole in my heart, tore it open, ripping me in two.

“Ma’am? Ma’am, did you hear me? You should come to the hospital.”

It was then the world came back to life, moving at warp speed while I was stuck in place, glass shattered at my feet. I pressed my hand to my chest, feeling my heart thrashing frantically behind my ribcage.

“I’m on my way,” I croaked, hanging up the phone and holding it in a death grip in the palm of my hand, needing a lifeline.

Kristy came running around the bar, placing her hand on the top of my arm. “Are you okay?”

I wasn’t, because it felt like everything I knew had been snatched away from me in an instant. But it shouldn’t have been a shock. I should have expected this because it’s been three years of waiting.

“I have to go,” I told her.

She dropped her hand from arm. “It’s fine. Go. I got it.”

I nodded my head and walked out the door, riding my old bike to the hospital.

So now, here I am, hovering over my mom’s body. I wish I could trade places with her, wish I could be the one lying in the hospital bed.

I run my hand through her thin brown hair and listen to the steady beep of the machine she’s hooked up to. The sound has become one of comfort to me. I don’t have to feel for her pulse when she’s here because I know she’s still breathing from the beep that echoes through the hospital room.

“We’ve given her medication, so she isn’t in any pain,” the nurse says, attempting to ease my mind.

But she can’t. She can’t make me feel any better. She can’t make my own pain go away. She can’t turn back time and force my mom to have a surgery she didn’t want.

“How long?” I ask, needing to know how much longer it will be before her body is lying lifeless in this bed, her soul gone forever.

That’s all I ever want to know–how much time I have, but I know I won’t ever be satisfied with the answer because if it’s not a lifetime–it’s not enough.

“It’s hard to tell. We can’t predict these things, but she would be lucky to make it another month.” She holds a chart close to her body, hugging it so tightly the tips of her fingers turn white.

“I want her to have the surgery,” I say, determination in my voice, wanting someone to fix her–someone to bring her back to me.

I don’t care that I still need $1,000 for them to perform the surgery. I’ll sell everything I have to save her.

The nurse looks at me with pity in her eyes. “I’m sorry, but she signed a DNR the last time she was here. She explicitly wrote out that she did not want to have surgery, and she didn’t want to prolong her life with any extraordinary measures.”

What? I can’t believe what I’m hearing. I can’t believe that this is it.

Time freezes as I let the weight of her words sink in. Nothing I’ve done matters. Everything I sacrificed was for nothing.

I stare at the nurse, baffled. “You’re just going to let her die?!” I yell. “Watch her wither away into nothing? Don’t I have a say in this?” I demand, tears streaming down my face.

“I’m sorry,” she says, taking a step closer to me.

I hold out my hand, stopping her before she steps any closer. “Get out!” I scream.

She backs away and walks out the door, leaving me crying over my mom–over the woman who raised me, over the woman I’ve been working my ass off to save. And it was all for nothing. She was never going to have the surgery. And I was never going to have her the way she was before she got sick.

“Where are we going?” I ask, yanking on Mom’s hand as we walk down the bustling city street.

“We’ll be there in just a minute. Hang on, and you’ll see.” She grins, tugging me along next to her.

I skip down the sidewalk, happy to be out for the day while my dad is at work. I love days that Mom and I spend together. She calls it girls’ day, but I call it play day because we always get to do fun things that Dad never wants to. Last time we went to the heart of the city to see a garden that was filled with beautiful flowers and butterflies. It was magical and made me feel like I was a princess in a Disney movie.

“We’re here,” Mom announces as we stand outside a tall building.

“Where’s here?” I ask, confused by the giant, white building in front of us that looks like it should have guards standing outside with two giant lion statues.

“You’ll love it,” she promises, squeezing my hand as she ascends the stone steps to the ticket booth.

Mom buys tickets as I look around at my surroundings. The woman standing next to me has neon pink hair and is wearing a shimmery gold top with royal purple pants. The man holding her hand has wild green hair and is decked out in black clothing. I smile, wishing Mom would let me dye my hair a fun color–something different besides my dark brown hair that makes me blend in with the rest of the world.

“Enjoy,” the man behind the ticket booth says as Mom takes our tickets, and we head inside.

We walk through the grand glass door, and a woman wearing a maroon vest tears our tickets before we weave through the velvet red rope.

“Are we seeing a movie?” I ask, puzzled.

She doesn’t answer as we shuffle into a room on the right, and it’s then I see it. Another magical place that makes my heart leap and my stomach jump in excitement.

“We’re at a museum,” she explains. “An art museum.” She crouches down next to me, smiling from ear to ear. “I want you to see that this could be you one day. You could have a whole museum filled with your artwork. I know you’re only eleven and aren’t thinking about being an adult, but one day, you’ll have to make a decision about who you are.”

“What do you mean?” I question. “I’m me.” How could I ever be anyone else?

Her smile turns a little sad. “I know, but one day you’ll understand what I’m saying. I want you to be whoever you want. Don’t let anyone tell you that you can’t reach your dreams because it isn’t true. If you want it, make it happen. I know you love art, so I want you to know that you can achieve that dream if you want it.”

I nod, a little confused about what she’s saying, but I do love drawing. My art teacher, Ms. Camille, says I’m the best student she’s had in a long time. I even won two awards for Best Artist this year.

I look around at the artwork displayed on the walls and grin at the possibility of that being me one day.

We amble around for hours, admiring the colorful art. Some of it is happy and some of it slightly creepy but all of it is beautiful.

After we leave the museum, we head down the street to the bakery where we share a slice of red velvet cake, my mom’s favorite, so it’s quickly becoming one of mine, too.

The monitor Mom is connected to beeps, and I stare down at her. Her hair was once a dark brown, but now, it’s faded, the color muted. Her skin used to glow in the sun, but it’s pale now since she’s been inside for months, not venturing outdoors. In ways, she’s not the same woman, but when she looks at me, I see her. I see my mom staring back at me, and it doesn’t matter that her hair is wiry and skin pale. All that matters is she’s here.

But we’re at the end of the line, and we’re never going to have a play day again. We’re never going to eat red velvet cake, and she won’t be able to tell me that I can do anything I put my mind to. She won’t ever be able to push me to be more–to do more because she’s dying right before my eyes.

I kiss her cheek, praying she isn’t in pain.

And then I leave because I can’t take it anymore. I can’t sit here. I need to leave. I need to be alone.

So I run.

Out of the hospital.

Away from my mom.

I run because it’s the only thing I know how to do.

I stop outside my house and close my eyes, inhaling, wishing my heart would stop splintering. I let the darkness of the night wash over me, letting it comfort me as cricket’s chirp in the background.

After several deep breaths, I open my eyes, and fury floods my body, replacing the agony that’s been swimming inside me for the last three hours.

Dad waltzes out of the house carrying three full black trash bags, and I jump off my bike, letting it fall to the dirt.

“Where were you?” I yell, clenching my fists at my sides.

“I was here.” He shrugs.

“Why weren’t you at the hospital. Why weren’t you with Mom?” I demand, my nostrils flaring.

“I called an ambulance. They took care of her.”

“You should have been there for her. You’re never there.”

A cab pulls up behind me, flashing its lights, and Dad rushes down the stairs, moving past me without a word.

“Where are you going?”

“I’m leaving.”

“Are you going to the hospital?” I ask, eyes wide. “What are you doing with those bags?”

“I’m not going to the hospital.” The trunk of the cab pops open, and he lifts it the rest of the way, tossing the bags in the trunk before closing it. “I’m leaving and not coming back.”

My jaw unhinges as he opens the back door of the cab.

“You’re what?!” I shriek, stomping closer to him until I’m on the other side of the cab door.

“I can’t do this.” He shakes his head, his eyes vacant.

And I hate him even more for not caring about what he’s doing to Mom by leaving.

“You can’t do this?! Do you think I can? Do you think Mom can? You’re being a selfish bastard, but I guess that’s just the status quo for you. Leave and give up whenever things get too hard.”

“You’ve got this under control. She doesn’t need me around. She doesn’t even know I’m there.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I scream. “Of course she doesn’t know you’re there because you’re never fucking there. You haven’t been around since she was diagnosed. You gave up on everything a long time ago. Her. Me. Yourself.”

He blinks, his mouth twisting like he’s keeping something from me. “You’ll be better off without me.”

I shake my head, disappointed in him, but I shouldn’t have expected anything more.

“I will, but what you’re doing is going to hurt Mom.” I crane my head closer to him. “Did you ever even love her? Or did you just want someone to clean up after you your whole life?”

“I do love her, and I love you.” He sighs. “I just don’t show it well.”

“Bullshit.” There’s no way I believe him because love doesn’t hurt, and that’s all he ever did to me and Mom.

“I’m gonna go,” he says, gripping the cab door.

“By all means, leave. That’s one less mouth for me to feed, and don’t expect me to call you when she dies. Don’t expect to come crawling back to me when you’re homeless. We’re done,” I spit. “You’re just a stranger to me. The dad I knew disappeared a hell of a long time ago.”

He drops in the back seat and closes the door, and the cab drives off, leaving me standing in front of our house.

Tears stream down my face faster than I can wipe them away, so I give up, letting them fall freely as I kick at the dirt, but it doesn’t make me feel better.

I pick up the yellow dump truck sitting in the yard and throw it at our trailer. My trailer. My trailer because there isn’t anyone else left. It’s just me. I snatch a tennis ball from the ground and chuck it at the window, breaking the glass as it flies inside the house.

I throw the firetruck, plastic shovel, and every other toy in the yard until I have nothing left, until I’m left feeling everything I’ve been left to deal with. Death. Misery.

I move closer to the trailer and kick it, punishing it for mocking me for being here by myself. I scream as loud as I can, letting out my anger the only way I know how.

I kick, and kick, and kick until a light is shining behind me, and not just any light. Those damn flashing red and blue lights.

A car door slams behind me, and my body locks up as my forehead falls onto the trailer. “Ma’am, we were notified of a noise complaint,” the officer says, shinning his flashlight at my back.

The light casts a shadow on the trailer–my shadow. I hate it. I hate seeing my form, slouched and small–even my shadow seems defeated.

I pound my fist against the trailer, wishing I could feel each blow to my body.

I wish the events of my life hadn’t led me to this exact moment. The moment when I rear my hand back and slam my fist into the face of my shadow, hitting the officer behind me with my elbow.

The flashlight clicks off before a set of rough hands grabs both of my arms and shove me against the trailer.

Cold metal clamps around one wrist and then the other, cuffing my hands together.

I close my eyes, wanting nothing more than to crumble to the ground and never get back up.

A radio clicks on and the officer behind me says, “104 to Central.”

“Go ahead 104,” a female voice comes through the static of his radio.

“I’m bringing in a female for disorderly conduct. Starting mileage 8924.”

He pulls me off the side of the trailer, guiding me to his car where the flashing lights blind me.

I’m being arrested. The anger and pain dissipate until all I feel is numb to everything around me that is until I see his face. Hudson standing in the dark, his mouth turned down and color drained from his face.

Everything has changed–shifted, leading me to this place where I can no longer hold myself together–not on my own.

The police officer ducks my head into the back of the car and shuts the door.

More tears. No longer numb. Now I’m completely embarrassed for the way I acted. I should have waited until I was in the comfort of my own home to self-destruct, that way no one would be witness to the crazy, but instead, I fell apart before everyone’s eyes.

The worst part is that Hudson saw it. He saw my spiral. I wonder if he’ll be around now that he’s seen the worst part of me.

I’d like to think he will, but the fact of the matter is everyone leaves. And I’ll always be on my own. In the darkest part of me, I pray he won’t be around because I don’t want to ruin him–I want him to run and stay as far away as possible.

When the officer is in the car, he asks, “Full name?”

“Jade Elizabeth Hart,” I say, feeling the weight of my mother’s name on my tongue.

I feel like I let her down more than anything. I dishonored her name and tarnished mine.

“Date of birth?”

“October 18, 1995.” I drop my head back, letting it hit the headrest as I stare out the window.

The officer puts the car in drive, honking the horn on the car as the lights flash across my broken trailer. The people who gathered move out of the road, watching as I experience the worst day of my life.

When the car drives past Hudson, I swear I hear him say, “I’m coming to get you.” But I can’t be sure because who the hell would save me? And why would they bother?