I’m sitting at the kitchen table with a terrible feeling in my gut. Mom is standing in front of me with her hands clasped across her stomach and a frown on her face.
She’s most definitely heard the news about the fight. That’s why I despise living in this small town. It’s full of loudmouths who don’t understand what the concept of minding their own business is. Yet I know Mom finding out was bound to happen. I mean, I attacked Bethany out in the open with many people who “love” my mom.
“I feel like we’re having the same conversation again,” she starts off saying.
Sighing, I rest my chin on the palm of my hand, focusing my gaze on the original lines in our wooden kitchen table. I always used to trace these lines when I was little, pointing out different shapes I found to my parents. I wish life were that simple now.
“You didn’t think I was going to figure this out?” she continues. “You attacked a girl on the street, for God’s sake! Everyone in town watched as you beat a girl senseless.”
I stare up at her and raise my voice. “She asked for it. She was talking shit, Mom. I’m not sorry for what I did.”
“I don’t care if she asked for it or if she was talking shit. You could have gotten into so much trouble!” Mom rambles on, getting more furious, the more the minutes pass. “The police could have been called, and they could have charged you with assault!”
I shrug my shoulders while leaning back in my seat. “There’s nothing I can do now. Plus, Mom, everyone fights all the time. If fighting made you go to jail, everyone would be behind bars.”
Rolling her eyes at my response, she continues her rant. “Everyone in town is talking about this. I hear them. They see you as some troubled kid going through a rebellious phase. Are you trying to change your image and make people go against you?”
I sit up straighter in my seat and glare at her. “So, this is what this is about?” I let out a dry laugh. “You just care about my image, not about what happened to me—your own child.” My chair squeaks against the hardwood floor beneath me as I stand. “I’m not living my life for other people. I’m living it for me.”
I’ve never been one to care what people think about me—well, I try to not let anyone get to my head. I feel as if my own mother doesn’t care about me, which hurts way more than anything Bethany could have ever said.
“Mom, you haven’t even asked if I’m okay. Don’t you wonder what she said to make me so upset?” My voice cracks mid-sentence, betraying the hurt I feel within. At this moment, as I have a standoff with a woman I can’t even recognize, I’ve never felt more alone.
I don’t know how much longer I can stand this empty feeling inside. My heart clenches in my chest. I feel like I have to breathe harder in order to get oxygen into my lungs that want to close.
I have no purpose on this earth. I’m a letdown to everyone. I’m just a waste of space and money. I have no one left. My eyes water as I look at the woman in front of me. Dad would have been more understanding. He probably would have asked if I punched with suitable form instead of shaming me without hearing my side first.
God, I miss him so much that it hurts.
My hands shake at my sides. I feel suffocated in this home, where I don’t feel safe anymore. I walk past her and dodge her hand when she tries to grab me.
“No, Mom!” I yell out, frustrated. Without looking back, I let my tears fall freely down my cheeks. “You’ve made me feel so low. I can’t—” I stutter. “I need to be alone right now, away from this house.” Practically running to the front door, I twist the doorknob open quickly and run out of the house.
I don’t stop when I hear her yell. I don’t stop when tears rush down my face, making it hard to see what’s in front of me. I need to get out of here. This house used to be fun. But now, it’s depressing.
I look wildly around our property when I don’t spot our car. Shoot, Leo drove me home. It’s still in town, parked in front of the bookstore. What am I going to do now?
“Hey, Trinity!” a voice calls out from my left.
Looking over toward the triplets’ house, I find Elijah playing basketball. He holds the ball to his hip, and a frown is apparent on his face.
“Are you okay?”
Knowing he can see right through me, I shake my head. He drops the ball to the ground, and I watch as it bounces twice before rolling around.
When he jogs in my direction, I plead as he reaches me, “Can you please take me into town? Leo gave me a ride yesterday, so my car is still there.”
He nods his head, confusion written all over his face. “Yeah. Let me get my keys, and I’ll be right out.”
My legs carry me over toward the Mercedes SUV I know pretty well by now. I stand by the door, waiting for him to arrive. Elijah emerges from the house seconds later while spinning the keys around his pointer finger. A cap is on his head, matching his brother’s strange behavior of always hiding his face.
“Let’s go,” he says, flashing me a small smile as the car beeps.
I fasten my seat belt once I’m seated beside Elijah. Leaning my head against the headrest, I try to focus on my breaths. I search my mind, trying to remember the tempo Leo’s chest made when he coached me through my anger.
Breathe in and out.
Don’t let panic take over your body.
