“You don’t have to apologize.” She kisses the top of my head like she used to when I was younger. “You’re home now, Merci. And we’re going to figure this out together.”
I want to reassure her, so I say okay and try to cement a smile in place as I pull back and look at her. A smile that’s more a shield than an engine for connection.
She clears her throat as she wipes her eyes. "I'll make you some lunch. Your favorite grilled cheese?"
"With the fancy cheese Mr. Knight buys? Hell, yes."
Mom stands, then turns to leave. I stare after her, my breath heaving in and out. “Mom, I’m so sorry I ran away. I—I just wanted you to be happy.”
She pivots, looking me right in the eyes. “You are my happiness, Merci. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
When she’s gone, I exhale a shaky breath and let my head fall into my hands. My chest feels unbearably tight like the air itself is conspiring to suffocate me.
There’s no way I’m getting any more studying done right now. Closing the book, I flop back down onto the pillow, emotionally exhausted.
Although Mom looked sad when I first arrived, she’s happier now. And she looks healthier too. After we escaped from that abusive prick of a bio-dad, shit was tough.
Then she met Mr. Knight, and they started dating. While I was still struggling from the years of abuse, at least we were finally safe.
Until my bio-dad found us.
My pulse rate starts racing as I remember the way he broke into our apartment and dragged Mom by her hair, saying how he wasn’t going to let her leave. I tried to help, but he swung at me, split my lip open, and knocked me to the floor. The fuck spit on me after, calling me weak.
I thought we were going to die, especially when he took the knife off the butcher block. That’s when I heard the bang—or loud pop. Mom screamed and crawled to me as my father crumbled to the floor. Behind him was Mr. Knight.
He’d saved us.
Not sure what happened between Mr. Knight and Mom after because he stayed away for a bit. I did overhear them talking once and he mentioned wanting to give her time to process.
I snort. Guess emotional maturity skipped a generation.
Maybe I shouldn’t have run. Maybe things would’ve worked themselves out and I could’ve had a family. Stability. A life that didn’t revolve around survival.
Fuck, I probably could’ve even had friends.
Because the only thing close I’d ever had is that stupid redhead fuckface. And now I’m alone again. With no one to talk to about all the shit going on.
I grab my phone, lips pressed into a thin line. If there’s one emotion clear as fucking day right now, it’s anger. And I know who to aim it at.
Me: You're dead to me.
Raiyne: You’re still alive?
Me: Go fuck yourself with a rusty spoon.
Raiyne: Look, they told me you tried to kill Zach. And . . .
Me: Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of you being a backstabbing whore.
Raiyne: Saysthe actual whore.
Me: Takes one to know one. Don’t think I didn’t see you sucking off my stepbrother’s friend.
Me: Oh, and Zach made sure to mention you two fucked around as well.
Raiyne: First, you know he makes people sign an NDA.
Raiyne: Second, care to fill me in on what the actual fuck’s going on?
