I swipe at them roughly, angrily. I hate this. I’m so tired of being afraid. Of hiding. Of being the ghost of a girl who lives in this house but doesn’t really exist inside it. I want out. I want somewhere else… anywhere else… but that would mean telling someone the truth. And being believed.
I tried that once. Never again. Let’s just say that didn’t end well for me. So, I stay.
All night, I sit on the roof under the Arizona sky. It’s safer out here than in there. This isn’t the first time I’ve slept under the stars, and it won’t be the last. If the neighbors have ever seen me, they’ve kept it to themselves. I hope they always will. It’s an excellent hiding spot and I would hate to have it revealed.
Eventually, the horizon softens and the sky bleeds gold. The sun rises, same as it always does. New day, new beginning. Or whatever they say. But inside, I’m just as hollow as I was last night. Nothing’s changed. Nothing ever does.
Cautiously, I climb back through the window, stepping into the mess of my room. Everything is overturned. My bed. My desk. My books. I tiptoe through the destruction, careful not to make noise. There’s no time to clean. The mess will have to wait.
Vacant eyes stare back at me from the bathroom mirror as I scrub my teeth. My reflection looks as terrible as I feel. Puffy, red-rimmed eyes with purplish shadows underneath. Blotchy, uneven skin from crying. I dab on some concealer followed by foundation. It helps a little, but not enough. I look like what I am: a girl trying to survive. Oh, well.
Back in my room, I dig my phone, purse, and keys out of their usual hiding spot in the closet and make my way to the door. I listen until I’m sure the hallway’s clear. Then, I crack it open. No mom. No Joe. I tiptoe, shoes in hand, skipping the second-to-last stair that’s known to squeak. As soon as I hit the front door, I bolt.
I don’t even bother to put on my shoes until I’ve turned the corner at the end of the block.
Out of sight. Out of mind.
I wind through the neighborhood, cutting across lawns and gravel patches. Ten minutes later, I reach my car, a beat-up, black Camry, parked a few streets over. I never park at home anymore. Joe’s blocked me in, physically standing in front of the car preventing my escape. This? This is safer.
I slide into the driver’s seat and double-check for my backpack in the back floorboard. Still there.
The first thing I do is drive to the nearest gas station. If I’m going to make it through the day, I’m going to need a large coffee and something sugary.
Inside, I fill a Styrofoam cup with steaming, caffeinated goodness.
Ping.
The chime of an incoming text echoes from my back pocket.
Mom:Where are you?
I frown. She’s awake? That’s... surprising. I snap on a plastic lid and type out a quick reply:
Me:omw to school. Why?
Her response is nearly instant.
Mom:Can you come back home for a few minutes? I need help.
Help?That word lands like a brick in my stomach. Help could mean anything. Is she hurt worse than usual? Is she unable to get out of bed? Or maybe she just can’t find her pills. Or her pride.
The truth is, I could go. I have time. I just don’t want to. Not today. Not again. I stare at my phone, jaw clenched. The longer I sit with it, the more the anger builds. She chooses this. She chooses him. Every. Single. Time.
My thumbs move before I can stop them.
Me:Sorry, can’t. Mr. Thomas is letting me come in early to make up a test. I’ll be home right after school.
I re-pocket my phone and head to the register, swiping my card for the coffee and donut I picked out. The chime of another incoming message echoes before I even reach my car, but I ignore it.
By the time I pull into the school parking lot, the sugar and caffeine are starting to work their magic. I finish the donut, licking the pink frosting from my fingers, then sigh and reluctantly check the text.
Mom:Please. I need you to come home.
I stare at the screen for a second. If she’s texting, she’s breathing. That’s good enough, for now. Mind made up, I set my phone to silent and slip it into my backpack before heading inside the red brick building. The world keeps turning. Mine just tilts further off its axis.
Chapter 2
I’m busy dreaming of a different life when a knock at the classroom door yanks me back to reality.
