But try telling that to my heart.
18
You will not be afraid
The next day, I check out of the motel and send a group text to Lucas and Tyler .
Me: I’m on my way.
I try to psych myself up for what’s coming, the looming confrontation with Sean when I go to collect my things. I repeat under my breath,
“You are Camille Torres. You will not be afraid.”I might not be battling dragons or demons like my favourite fantasy book heroine, but damn if this doesn’t feel just as terrifying.
I pull up at Lucas’s house and hop out of my car, holding Gizmo. Lucas comes outside before I get the chance to knock.
“Hey, is this Gizmo?” He says as he walks up to me. “She’s cute.” He scratches her gently and she immediately starts purring, moving her head to be closer to him. I fight the same feeling when he’s around.
“She sure is. I’m gonna drop her inside before we go, if that’s okay?”
“Go ahead. I’ll give you a hand with your stuff?” He offers and starts opening my boot.
“That would be amazing, thanks.” I walk towards the house.
After I settle Gizmo inside, we all get in Lucas’s white Toyota Land-cruiser Ute and start driving to my old place.
My heart starts pounding faster the closer we get. Part of me wants to turn the car around.
I still remember the shouting, the slammed doors, the nights I locked myself in the bathroom just to breathe.
But I’m not alone this time. Lucas and Tyler are with me. And even though I’m terrified, I feel steadier with them here, like maybe he won’t be as dangerous with witnesses.
I’m not surprised, but I still feel disappointed when I see Sean’s car in the driveway. I was hoping he wouldn’t be home today and we could avoid any altercations.
Lucas comes around to my side of the car and helps me out, giving my hand a gentle squeeze. His touch is soft, steady. A small reminder that he’s got my back.
Before we make it to the front door, I turn to the guys.
“Please… don’t talk to him. There’s no point provoking him more than he already is. Just stand by me, make sure he doesn’t try to stop me from taking my stuff.”
They nod silently, serious.
I face the door. My hands are shaking and I feel like I might be sick, as I force myself to knock. There is no answer but I know he’s home.
I falter slightly. Maybe I should just go? Maybe I can just buyeverything new and start again?
No. Ineedto do this.
I fumble in my bag, trying to find my key. When I finally find it, I have to steady my hand so I can push the key into the keyhole. It unlocks with a click.
I wipe my sweaty palms on my denim shorts, then turn the door handle.
The door creaks open. Before I can take a step inside, Sean is in my space. He’s glaring at me with pure hatred.
My pulse picks up at the sight of him, my toes curling. What’s he going to do? My body wants to run, but I’m frozen in place.
Then the feeling of being sick comes back like a wave, as the smell from inside overwhelms me—food that’s been left out too long, and a heavy fog of weed that coats my throat when I breathe.
The air feels thick and wrong, like the house itself is rotting from the inside.
