The Broken Mirror

Sober

The sedative begins to wear off and I feel myself regaining consciousness as the pain begins to increase. I lay in the wet sheets that I have soaked in sweat. My red hair draped over my face and shoulders. There is an IV attached to me, and I know my grandmother got all of this, allowing me to go through withdrawal in my bedroom.

I can see Xavier sitting at my window seat with a sketchpad in his hand. What I see almost every time I wake up. I don't stir, so he doesn't know I am awake. We haven't talked much, although I haven't been awake much for the last few days. Hallucinations and aggression kind of made it impossible to talk. He looks up to study me for a minute and then drops his head back and continues to sketch.

The night he dragged me out of the club I passed out in the car, but when I woke up the next morning, he was still furious. He was ready to start a war with me. A battle I knew I was going to lose.

"I'm sorry," was all I could manage to say when I woke up. He refused to acknowledge me for a few minutes. I was in his room, laying on his bed. He was at his desk drawing in a sketchpad until he heard me. He walks over to me and stands over me.

"I told your grandmother and father," he informed me. I shut my eyes, knowing that this is about to get extremely bad. "Don't apologize."

"But you're mad at me," I respond to his comment. He shook his head.

"I hate apologies," Xavier stated. I look down at his sheets. I can feel wear I sweated out the molly. My body is craving for my thermos.

"I'm thirsty," I tell him trying to get out of bed. He pulls out my thermos.

"For this?" He asks me. "You said you stopped after New Year's."

"I'm sorry!"

"I said stop apologizing! You lied! You think apologizing is going to make your lies go away?" He yells back at me. My heart feels like it is about to jump out of my chest. I knew it, we've only been together for less than two weeks and I'm already screwing this s**t up.

"So, how am I supposed to let you know I'm sorry?" I ask him.

"Be honest!" He tells me. "Why didn't you say anything?"

I think about why I've been lying. "The party, I knew I couldn't stop while trying to get ready for the party. I would go awhile, and I would start to feel sick," I explain to him. He shakes his head at me.

"Bullshit. That party could have been canceled. You being sober is more important," He replies to me. I can feel my eyes getting heavy with tears. They begin to roll down my cheek and I wipe them off my face. I'm already starting to feel sick and I pull my legs to myself. He sits down at the edge of the bed staring down on the floor. "I know what I signed onto when I chose to be with you, but you can't lie to me, or it's over."

I rock back and forth, mainly because I am in pain, but my heart hurts just as much. "I'll stop," I said. He looks at me, questioning whether to believe me. He slowly nods and gets off the bed and leaves his room. Within a few hours, the symptoms of withdrawal began to get worse. When they did, he took me to my home for my grandmother to look after me. She got the supplies she needed to take care of me, but he has not left my side.

When I wake up, he's either sketching or wiping the sweat off my face. When I am lost to a hallucination, he's usually holding me, and I know it's him even though my mind is not all there. Now I lay here, days into withdrawal, and he is still here. I finally move to let him know I am awake.

"Let's change your sheets," he says to me. I nod my head yes. He puts down his sketchpad and helps me out of bed. My legs are weak, and he helps me to my window seat and places a blanket over me to keep me warm when he notices my teeth chattering. The sweat on my body making me cold when the cool air hits me. I watch him change my sheets on my bed.

Once the sheets are changed, he helps me back into bed. I study his face. The scruff that is usually there is turning into a beard, indicating he has not shaved in days. His eyes look exhausted. "What?" He asks me while noticing I am studying his face.

"Have you slept?" I ask him. He nods his head. "You look tired. Lay with me." He sighs and climbs into the bed next to me. He wraps an arm around me, making me into his little spoon. He pulls me into him, my body feeling like it fits perfectly against his. I take his hand and kiss it. "Thank you."

"For what?" I hear him say, his voice rumbling against my back.

"For all that you've done. You didn't have to," I say to him.

"Yes, I did."

In the next few days, I was able to get out of the bed and rejoin the world. I had to start going to DA meetings. He would wait for me outside every time. When I went back to his house for the first time since my birthday, Gabrielle ran to me and almost knocked me over.

"How are you feeling? I was so worried when Xavier said you got pneumonia," she says to me. I look at Xavier, so sure he had told them what was truly wrong.

"Yeah, it was awful," I respond to her.

"Your grandmother and Xavier would not allow us to come over," Gabrielle explains to me. "Bro, we were about to give your room away."

"Sure, you were El," Xavier says as he walks further into his home. She looks at me.

"What?" I ask her.

"You still look weak," she says to me. I'm still going through withdrawal, but I can function now.

"Yeah, I had... pneumonia, remember?" I lie. She nods as if that makes complete sense. "You ready to go back to school?" I change the subject so that she can stop focusing on me. I walk over to their couch and plop myself down on it. I'm still having cravings but it's not as intense as it was a few days ago.

"Yeah, I guess," she responds. She has not been doing as well as she thought she would. Ethan and Xavier both chose medicine because they are good at it, but I always got the impression she chose it because of those two.

"What is with the lackluster excitement?" I ask her. She shrugs her shoulders.

"I don't know. Haitian parents stressing me out," she answers. Her parents are both of Haitian descent. Ethan and Gabrielle are always telling about how that plays into their already interesting family dynamics. For Haitians, their children go into medicine, and almost nothing else is accepted unless it is stable and makes a lot of money. The weight of living up to those expectations, I can see is now weighing on her shoulders.

"Parents, in general, are stressful."

"Yeah, well my mom was the big disappointment, so she's looking to me to make up for her f**k up when it comes to our family. Grandmother never forgave her for getting pregnant as a teenager," she explains to me.

"Sounds like your grandmother is my mother," I say laughing. "Holding grudges." She laughs, some of the weight coming off her shoulders.

"I'll be fine. We are way overdue for a movie night with just you and me," she says.

"What did you have in mind?"

"I need a Patrick Swayze fix," she laughs, and I know what that means, Dirty Dancing, again.

It feels like winter today. Withdrawal finally over and I feel like me again. Xavier holds my hand as we walk through Wiregrass Mall, in Wesley Chapel that is North of Tampa but not far from our homes. It's an outdoor mall that sits on what used to be Wiregrass Ranch a massive farm, that donated much of its land to the high school and the mall. It's an up and coming neighborhood and the residents complain about how each year more of the wilderness that this place used to be disappears.

"I cannot believe I am actually wearing a jacket," I say to him. I've been getting away with sweaters and hoodies. Floridians crave for this time of year, so they have an excuse to wear their boots.

"It does get cold here," he says sounding like a true Floridian. Him being from New York a distant memory. Many of the things he remembers doesn't exist in New York anymore.

"But we were just at the beach a week ago," it was a day date to celebrate me being sober for two weeks.

"Give it a couple of days, we'll be able to go right back," he explains. The weather here is fickle and unpredictable. We walk into different stores and he browses through things. I love shopping, but I don't even know what we are shopping for.

"So why are we here?" I ask pushing through a rack of clothes, looking at items I won't be buying.

"I need to buy a gift for my dad's birthday," he responds to me.

"Really?" He barely speaks to me about his parents. I hear about his siblings all the time.

"Yes, and I wanted to ask if you'd have dinner with my parents this weekend," he asks me.

My eyes widen with the gravity of this question. "Both of them?"

"Yeah... as crazy as my mom is, she'd never miss my dad's birthday."

"You had to ask? You know I'd say yes." I give him a quick peck. This is big. When we are not attached at the hip, he sees his dad. They go out to eat or the movies, sometimes even fishing. However, he never goes to his parents' home. I also know this is huge for the two of us because I am meeting his parents. "Is there anything I should know before this dinner?"

He ponders the question for a second while looking at watches. "It'll just be the four of us, but you probably figured that part out," he's right. I know his siblings avoid their parents' home as much as he does. "My siblings typically mail dad their gifts. My mom has absolutely no filter, sober or drunk." Lovely.

He continues on, "my dad is a quiet man. He's very proud and serious, but my mom is his soft spot."

I brush myself up against him and bump him. "Sounds like someone I know."

"I am not quiet or serious." I burst out laughing because he's right.

"No, you're moody. You act silly one minute, then something has you in your feelings. Then you are snapping at people, but I'm your soft spot."

"You're no picnic either."

"Aw, but you find me adorable..." He rolls his eyes at me, but I can see a hint of his dimples peeking through, proving he wanted to laugh.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah. Seriously, be prepared for anything when it comes to my mom."

"Have you heard my mouth?"

He leans next to me while we stand next to a jewelry counter in Macy's. My back is on the case. He whispers in my ear, "Yes, I have, I've also seen what it can do."

"Yeah," I caress his lips with mines. "How about I show you again what all it can do, later?"

He nods his head, looking like later is too long to way. "Definitely later." We hear someone cough behind us and see a Macy's employee looking rather annoyed. We both stifle a laugh and walk away from the counter. "Come, there is another store I want to go to."

I follow him into another store and we both look for things for his father. He helps me pick out something his father would love. We go up to the register and he pays for his gift. When it's my turn to pay for my name, he notices the "N" between my first and last name.

"Are you going to finally tell me what the N stands for?" I laugh and shake my head no. He tries to reach for my wallet, and I pull it away. I give him a quick kiss. The poor cashier annoyed with our antics. "Don't try to distract me with your lips."

"Is it working?"

"Maybe..." He goes in for another quick kiss. We grab our items and leave the store.

The routine I had been getting used to, seems to be falling back into place. School, lunch with my grandmother and Gabrielle, not as much shopping, and time with Xavier. We don't speak about what we just endured together. We don't need to, because we did it together. The day before I must meet his parents, I sit at a table with Gabrielle and Cookie at our favorite lunch spot.

"I'm just so nervous. Like his dad, I feel like I can handle, but his mom. HE barely wants to see her." The nerves I feel could drive me to drink, but I've got a few weeks of sobriety under my belt. Being with Xavier had helped my willpower.

"You'll be fine. The couple of times I've met her, she said some crass stuff, but it was funny."

"The fact that you thought what she said was inappropriate scares me." My grandmother chuckles.

"Listen, I'm quite sure you are there for moral support, not to win his mother over." Yes, because that makes me feel better. I am not the best for moral support I would argue.

"Ugh, you're right. He lives independently from them most of the time."

"I think you need retail therapy. Gotta buy you an outfit for tomorrow," Gabrielle suggests.

"Sounds like heaven to my ears," I respond. We decide on a mall to go to. There is a mall up the street, but we avoid that one as much as possible. We only go to the movie theatre. It's too close to Suitcase City. They call it University Mall, but everyone in Tampa calls it Murder Mall. Every time I hear a story of someone going into the mall, they talk about gunshots going off and people being shot at. That is a big no thank you!

"Murder Mall is never an option, no matter how close. International it is!" Gabrielle and I go to clean up our lunch so that we can leave.

"Before you guys go, your family will be here in a couple of weeks. Apollo is traveling and making his final decision on college," my grandmother informs me.

"Are you serious?" I ask her.

"Yes, and I want a family discussion when they come."

"Yeah, okay, Cookie. Let's go, El." We both leave my grandmother. We go shopping to find an outfit for tomorrow night. It seems to be the exact therapy I need to calm my nerves. I settle on a loose-fitting jumper. It's cute and wholesome. Which is what I need, meeting his parents.

The night arrives for me to meet Xavier's family. They don't live too far from my home. Xavier places his hand on my lower back and I take a deep sigh, hoping it will steady my nerves. He unlocks the door to his parents' home and leads me inside. Their home is beautiful. It's an open-concept style home, like mines. I can see the kitchen, dining room, and living room, from where I stand. The floors are made of wood and the walls are a basic white. I study the furniture. It does not look like a woman lives here. It has bachelor pad vibes. It feels strange.

"Xavier is that you?" I hear a male voice cry out from a hallway. That must be his father Jude. The voice echoes through the house and I look up to see they have high ceilings.

"Yeah, dad, it's me and I've brought Siren with me." His father hurries out of the hallway with a slight limp and he grabs Xavier and gives him a hug.

He turns to me. "Nice to meet you," he looks me over and smiles, dimples showing up just like Xavier. He looks like Xavier, just an older version of him. "You are a vision. His description didn't do you justice." I give him a massive smile. "Let me get your mother."

I walk over to a wall full of pictures of Xavier with his family. There is joy in their childhood pictures. A group photo of the kids standing in front of the Cyclone at Coney Island. He looks so small next to them. Each photo, showing them at different stages of life, and their smiles looking grimmer and their eyes growing tired, the older they are in the photos. Xavier in each photo seems to be growing taller than his siblings until he's taller than his brothers and his sisters look like dwarves next to him and his brothers.

"Is that my munchkin out there?" A woman with a heavy Italian Staten Island accent screams out. His mother sounds like someone off Mob Wives. I giggle and turn to Xavier.

"Munchkin?" I whisper to him. He shushes me and that makes me giggle some more.

"Let me..." She stops talking when she sees me, and a face of uncertainty appears. She is a little woman. She slowly walks towards me. She reaches out and touches my face slightly startling me.

"Mom! This is my girlfriend Siren Alexander," Xavier practically yells, seeing how uncomfortable she just made me. I can see the regret in his face already.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Watts," I finally say to her. I put out my hand to shake hers and she just looks at it.

"It's Carmen. This is certainly a first, isn't it, Jude?" She turns to Xavier's father. "I swore you were going to end up with your little black friend." My eyes widen at the mention of Gabrielle and the racist tone of, 'little black friend'.

"Gabrielle?"

"Yes, her." His father walks up to her and places an arm around his wife.

"That is his best friend and you know it," Jude says to Carmen.

"She is also mines. Well, one of," I state and smile at Xavier. He turns his attention to his dad. There is a strained smile on Xavier's face. His dimples aren't even appearing.

"Happy Birthday!" Handing his father, the gift bags. His father thanks him and takes the bags from Xavier.

"Did you actually wrap them?" His mother asks him.

"No, no, Siren did. You know I have never been good at wrapping presents."

"Thank you, I will open these up after dinner. Come before the food gets cold. Your mother made me my favorite." All four of us head to the dining room table. His mother grabs a pan of lasagna out of the kitchen. There are delicious garlic bread and a massive salad. I also notice that placed in front of his mother is a massive bottle of white wine.

I get a good glimpse of Carmen. She's pretty, but I can tell she was extremely beautiful once upon a time. Drinking and smoking have aged her prematurely. His father looks younger than her. Although he has more gray hairs, which I am quite sure is named after his wife. She has long black hair but looks like she has teased a bit of it to make it fuller than it naturally is. Her cheeks sag a bit and her eyes are puffy. We eat and the food is delicious.

"I feel like I am in Sicily right now," I say, complimenting her food.

Very dryly she answers. "It's where my family is from."

"I met her in her parents' Italian restaurant and bakery in Staten Island," his father explains. Wait, Staten Island? I shoot Xavier a look.

"You didn't tell me you were from Staten Island," I say in a teasing tone.

"My parents are from there. I was born in Brooklyn," he says clearing up the confusion.

"Oh, a step up," I joke. Xavier playfully glares at me. I give him a smirk.

"You say that like you know New York." I turn my attention back to his mother. I smile at her and she does not return it. Her eyes examining me, like she's trying to figure out who I am.

"I was born and raised there."

"Have you now? I also noticed you said my food taste like it's from Sicily. Gonna assume you've been," she says staring at me. I feel like I am being interrogated. I nod my head quickly.

"Yup! A few times," I respond to her. "I've been to quite a few places, Japan. I've been all over Europe. A couple of times to Nigeria, South Africa. I loved Morocco." I give a weak laugh from being uncomfortable. "Honestly, we will be here all night if I count all the countries I've been to."

She turns to Xavier and touches his hand. He quickly pulls back from her. "Where'd you find this one munchkin?" She ignores that he removed his hand. Obviously, a normal response between the two. I look over to her, to see she is pouring what I think is her third glass of wine.

"She knocked my lunch out of my hand at school," he informs her.

"I made up for it by buying you and E lunch," I say trying to make it sound not as bad as he made it sound. She nods her head as she goes to dig back into her food. She goes to clear something out of her teeth making this weird sucking noise. I look at his father who's just sitting there eating quietly.

"So, what part of New York are you from? Don't tell me Upstate, cause then it doesn't count," she asks me. She sits back in her chair and takes massive gulps from her wine glass. She's eyeing me. I watch her.

"Manhattan," I answer.

"You know I want more than a borough, right?"

"Upper Eastside."

"Ha! You scored yourself a little rich girl munchkin," she yells in excitement like she won the lottery. Xavier rolls his eyes. Her response is the very reason I answered Manhattan at first.

"My parents are rich. I live here with my grandmother, Dr. Ramona Price," I purposely answer. His parents stop eating. His father silently stares at me. His mother pours herself another glass as her staring turns into a glare. I knew that would get under her skin.

"That nosy b***h is your grandmother," Carmen says coldly.

"Carmen!" Jude yells at her. I am not insulted, although it was harsh to hear. My grandmother is no b***h. His mother on the other hand. Xavier grabs my hand and squeezes it to reassure me. Carmen watches as Xavier comforts me.

"Jude, that woman, and that church were all in our business after we left." The table grows silent. It takes everything within me not to yell. I can tell they aren't like my family. This would have been an outburst.

"So, Siren what is your major at school?" Jude asks me to remove the remaining tension in the air. I smile at him.

"I haven't declared, yet. So, Liberal Arts for now," I respond. He nods his head.

"She's an amazing singer and dancer," Xavier proclaims to his dad. I smile at him and he's beaming with pride. His mother just rolls her eyes again, as if she could care less about my talents.

"Really?"

"James Alexander, big Broadway, and Opera star is my father," I inform them. His father nods in approval. Carmen stares at me as dinner continues and the men make small talk. The heat feels like it is partially off me, but her eyes are disconcerting. I watch her pour herself multiple glasses, shocked she's not just drinking straight out of the bottle.

"Do you want some?" She asks me. She noticed me watching her pour from the bottle.

"She doesn't want any," Xavier says before I can even speak.

"Can you let her speak? I can tell she wants some." She raises an eyebrow at me. I gulp and look at Xavier. Please save me from this scary woman.

"No, thank you. I'm only 19," I finally respond, trying to sound like I'm not about to s**t my pants.

"Don't give me that bullshit. I was giving Xavier wine when he was fourteen. Better to do it in the house than out in the street somewhere I always say."

"She can't have any and drop it!" She smirks at me. How much longer do we have to be here?

"Fine." His mother says as if she is satisfied with torturing me. As dinner finishes, Xavier begins collecting the dishes to go wash them. His father goes to join him in the kitchen. I'm left at the table with her. She lights a cigarette at the table. I move to get up from the table. The smell makes me want one, especially after the stress she's put me through.

"No, stay. Talk." She holds up her pack. "Do you want one?"

"Oh no, I quite last year." She grins at me. Her eyes reading my every movement.

"You have such beautiful red hair. Does the carpet match the drapes?" She asks me.

"What?" I am confused by her question.

"Is that bottle or your natural hair color?

"Natural, women in my family are redheads." She nods her head. She takes a pull from her cigarette and lets off some of the ashes in an ashtray. She smirks at me.

"How long have you been sober?" And just like that, I feel like I've been slapped by her. Scratch that, it was more like a gut punch because now my stomach feels like it is in knots. I stammer and say what as quickly as she nonchalantly asked me the question. "Oh, you thought I couldn't see you watching my bottle. At first, I thought you were clocking how much I was drinking, but I know that face anywhere."

"What face?" I ask her, playing dumb. I know the face, too, but playing dumb felt better than to admit she was correct.

"You crave it. Like right now..." She lifts the bottle while staring at me and slowly pours the remnants of the wine into her glass. "So, he can't stand to be around me, but he brings home a recovering addict."

"Mom, what are you saying to Siren?" Xavier says walking back into the dining room area. I look up to see his father has disappeared from the kitchen. Xavier stands next to me.

"Just making small talk, my munchkin."

"That was not small talk," I respond furiously. It is taking everything from within me not to jump across this table and not claw out her eyeballs.

"It's small talk between two addicts," Carmen looks up at her son and glares at him. I look up to see Xavier looking like he did the night of the party. Fury covers his face and I can tell the table could go flying at any moment.

"She's gone through recovery," He calmly answers her. The calm in his voice is chilling.

"Your point?" She smirks at him, knowing she is pissing him off. "I've been in recovery several times and fell off each time. She will, too." I sit there stunned at her boldness.

"Or how about she's not you," he whispers to her.

She cackles. "Oh, she's definitely me." She clumsily gets up from the table with the glass of wine in her hand. She finishes it off. "I need something stronger." She walks away into the hallway. Xavier rests his has on the table and looks down. He refuses to look at me. I get up from the table to console him and he pushes my hands away.

"Give me a minute." I back away angry and I'm not sure at who, mostly at his mother, but also at him for pushing me away. Does he believe what she is saying? He stands up straight, still not staring at me and walks down the hallway Carmen did. I hear a door slam close and then their voices get very loud. I step closer to the hallway to hear them better.

"Who knew I'd raise a hypocrite!" Carmen yells.

"You didn't raise me! Ashley did!"

"Aw, poor Xavier! He had a bad mommy!" She mocks.

"Are you f*****g kidding me? I nearly died because of you!"

"Don't curse at your mother!" I hear Jude finally chime in.

"Dad, stop enabling her sick behavior!"

"You know I don't ---"

"Yes! You! Do!"

"And you're just repeating your dad's mistakes with her!" I hear a loud crash and more shouting, but the words aren't audible. Something else crashes and someone screams.

"This is why I hate being around you!" I see a light from the hallway and I back away; not wanting to look like I was eavesdropping on their fight. Although they were loud enough for me not to. Xavier comes storming towards me and grabs my hand roughly, yanking me. He pulls me towards the door. Carmen rushes out and throws the bottle of wine at Xavier and it hits a wall near both of us.

"Go run off like the rest of your good fo' nothing siblings!"

"If it means never seeing you again! GLADLY!" As we are running through the front door, she turns to me with a wicked grin.

"He's going to hate you one day." I quickly look away from her and follow Xavier to his car. We get in and before I even close the door, he is pulling the car out of the driveway. I slam it shut and then throw on my seat belt. He speeds towards his home. The two of us are silent for the ride, but I can see him gripping the steering wheel like he could break it.

He pulls into the driveway of his home and puts the car in park and jumps out. He slams the door and begins heading towards the house. I climb out quickly to follow him. He heads to his bedroom and I follow behind him. He paces in his room and doesn't look up until I slam his bedroom door shut.

"Get out." He flatly says.

"What?" I ask bewildered. Did I throw the wine bottle at him?

"I want my space. Get out." He continues to say in a cold monotone voice.

"Are you f*****g kidding me right now?" I say to him.

"Go home, Siren!" I shake my head at him. I leave his room in a huff. Allowing the door to slam behind me. I run to Gabrielle's room and throw myself at her.

"What did that crazy b***h do this time?" She asks me. She holds me while I cry for a little bit. I gain some composure and try to understand what just happened so I can answer.

"She hated me."

"No big shock. She hates everyone. Why did the miserable b***h hate you?"

"Cause she...," it's time to tell her the truth. "Cause she knows I'm an addict, well a recovering one like her." Gabrielle gasps a little bit. She looks like she's holding her breath trying to process the news. We sit in silence for a long couple of minutes. Anticipation killing me a little bit.

"That's the fresh start, isn't it? But I saw you drinking...oh wow," she says. "That's why you two were acting weird at New Years and, and the party, you didn't get pneumonia? You were detoxing." I nod my head and bite my lip. She gets off her bed, kind of biting on her own lip. "Why did you tell him first?"

"I didn't. He figured it out at the first party I went to," she nods her head at my response.

"Son of an alcoholic. He would recognize the signs, wouldn't he?" She shakes her head and sits on her bed staring at me with wonder in her eyes. "E swore that you two had s*x and it's why you both acted to weird after that. When he finds out just how wrong he is. What I don't understand is his mom's reaction."

I get off her bed and stand next to the window staring out into the dark. I think about the things Carmen said to me. "She's angry because he chooses to be around me, a recovering drug addict and alcoholic than his own mother."

"But you're awesome and she almost killed him, not to mention just violent. You two are not the same."

I feel more truth bubbles about to burst. "We are more alike than you think. She almost killed him. I killed my sister."

"Wait...what!" Gabrielle yells. I nod my head. I sit back down on the bed. I tell her everything. How I was already an alcoholic and abused party drugs. I explain to her about the night of the crash. I tell her how my sister died, and she asks about the scar on my belly. I confirm to her the scar is from that. I tell her how I got hooked to my prescription drugs and was buying more from a drug dealer who I was f*****g. I tell her how I overdosed in my bathtub. She sits there quietly listening to the entire insanity of the last two years. My stint in jail and my father using his money to get me into rehab, so I wouldn't serve time in prison.

I go on to explain how all of this has affected my family. That I blew up at the Christmas party and that's why my mother won't even pretend she isn't speaking to me. I explain to her she's been holding me at arm's length since the accident. How what she's doing to me is exactly what Xavier is doing to his mother. She rubs my back as I burst into tears.

"She said one day he will hate me. What if it happens? What if I lose it again, and one of you end up like my sister?" I cry out. Gabrielle hugs me and shushes me to soothe me.

"Xavier always needs space after he's been around his mom. Don't take it personally. He should be fine by morning," she tries to explain to me, not answering my question.

"I don't want Xavier to become like his father. I won't allow it," I say to her.

"You won't be her. You have me, and Ethan, and Brittany, and Kristin, and Cookie, your father, and your brother. We love you. We love Xavier," she says soothingly.

"I don't have my mother," I say to her.

"Give her time." She gets off her bed and heads to her dresser. She then throws a t-shirt at me. "Tonight, you're sleeping with me."