Toxic (Better Than You) Read Online Free PDF

bed. I keep my eyes off of him and walk into Mom’s bathroom to find her leaning against the bathtub, mascara under her eyes and lipstick smeared across her cheek.
                  “Bring me some water, Sugar Plum? And stay with me awhile, would you?” she asks as she holds her hand out for me.
                  Part of me wants to reach out and grab onto her, feel her hold me and hug me for just a little. But I tell that part to fuck off because this is Mom we’re talking about and she’s either high or drunk or both and doesn’t give a shit about me. Just to remind myself of that, I look into the mirror and at my black eye that she gave me less than forty eight hours ago. With a bottle of cheap vodka, no less. The desire to have her hold me is now completely gone.
                  I stomp into the kitchen and fill our only glass with tap water, feel as it sloshes out of the cup and onto my hand before slamming it down in front of Mom. She’s passed out again, not even aware of the kindness I’m showing her.
                  “I am nothing like you,” I tell her. “I hate you.”
                  It’s the first time I’ve said it out loud and it feels good, but it doesn’t sound too convincing. Almost instantly I start to cry because all I want is a real mom and for it to be true. But I don’t hate her. I never could. I leave her there, her head looking like it’s about to fall off, and go into my room. Instead of doing my homework or drawing or doing anything productive, I lay down on my bed and stare at the ceiling for hours, telling myself over and over again that this is the life I have been given and it is the life I deserve. It is the life I will live for the rest of my life.
                  No more sugar coating. No more hoping. No more wondering what could happen when I get out of here. Because as much as I say that I’m nothing like Mom, I know I’m exactly like her, that she’s all I have, and that it’s just me and her against the world. I know that I’m stuck here, in this house with no air conditioning and sometimes no electricity at all, where there’s no food and our only pets are the family of cockroaches that have taken up the pantry. That while people like Melissa break free of places like this, it is where I will grow up and it is where I will stay. I’m not meant for much more and it’s time to accept that truth.

8
    August 13, 2005
                  “Just one more, Sam, then I swear I’m done.”
                  “You better be because I am not spending this whole party in the kitchen like last time. I saw some cute boys on the way in and I swear I am making out with at least one of them.”
                  “Or all of them!”
                  “Hey! Drink your damn shot before I drink it for you!
                  I shoot it down. It burns all the way. Someone offers me a chaser but I refuse. I don’t chase my drinks, just like I don’t chase my truths. Somehow that makes sense to me, but maybe it’s because that was my fourth shot in six minutes.
                  “Finally! Let’s go!”
                  Sam grabs my hand and pulls me through the crowd. We’re too young to be here, too young to be drinking and too young to be dressed the way we are, but we don’t care and neither do the guys staring at our asses. We reach the middle of the room, surrounded by grinding, sweaty bodies, and join the flow. The floor tilts this way and then that way but I stay upright in my four inch heels. I feel like I should be given an award for that. The thought makes me laugh.
                  “What’s so funny?” Sam shouts into my ear.
                  We’re still dancing, never stopping, not even to talk. Even though we’re in the middle of the crowd, it’s like we’re in our own little world. No one