“Where the fuck were you?” The words came out like shards of glass. “Where were you when she locked me in the shed forhours because I didn’t want to practice my pageant wave? When she controlled every bite of food I put in my mouth because God forbid I wasn’t thin enough for her precious competitions? Where were you when I was so fucking desperate to escape her that I took a razor to my own skin?”
Dad’s face had gone gray.
“You sat there.” I pointed at him, my hand steady. “You sat there like the useless cunt you are and you let her destroy me, piece by piece, year after year. And you never said one fucking word to stop her.”
“Emily, that’s enough—” Mom tried to interrupt, her voice shrill.
“No.” I cut her off, my gaze swinging back to her. “It’s not nearly enough. It will never be enough to make up for what you did to me. For what you both did.”
I stood up, my chair scraping against the hardwood floor. The sound was loud in the awful silence.
“You wanted me to be perfect. To be pretty and polished and exactly what you could show off to your friends. But I was never a daughter to you. I was a doll. A project. Something you could mold and control and punish when I didn’t perform the way you wanted.”
Mom’s hands were shaking. “We gave you everything?—”
“You gave me nothing!” The words exploded out of me, sharp and cutting. “You gave me eating disorders and anxiety and scars I’ll carry for the rest of my life! You gave me years of therapy I still haven’t started because I’m too afraid to look at what you did to me!”
I grabbed my napkin and threw it down on the table.
“You know what? I’m done. You can both get fucked.”
I turned and walked toward the door, my steps measured and deliberate. Behind me, I could hear Mom sputtering, Dad saying something I didn’t bother to listen to.
I didn’t run. I didn’t cry. I just walked out of that house with my head high and my spine straight, leaving them sitting at their perfect table with their perfect dinner, in their perfect house. But without their perfectly ruined daughter.
The front door clicked shut behind me and I kept walking. Down the path. Past the stupid hanging baskets. To my car.
My hands were steady as I unlocked the door. My breathing was even as I slid into the driver’s seat.
I started the engine, put the car in reverse, and drove away from that house without looking back.
CAM
The silence in the house should have been relaxing. Natascha had picked the girls up an hour ago, leaving me with a free weekend, but I couldn’t sit still.
I paced the length of the living room, running through the plan for tomorrow one more time.
The picnic basket was already packed and hidden in the pantry. I’d found the perfect spot by the river, a place where the trees broke to let the sun in. That was where I was going to do it.
That was where I was finally going to tell Emily I loved her.
A car engine hummed outside, making my pulse jump. I was off the couch before I could think better of it, stepping out onto my porch just as Emily’s car pulled into her driveway.
My brows pinched together. She wasn’t supposed to be back yet. Dinner with her parents should have taken at least another hour, maybe two.
I checked my watch, confusion warring with anticipation. It was barely seven thirty.
I forced myself to stay on the porch. I wasn’t going to bombard her with the ‘L’ word the second she stepped out of the car, even if it was sitting right on the tip of my tongue. I’d play itcool. Ask her inside. See if she wanted a drink. Then I’d ask her to stay.
My heart thudded against my ribs as I watched the driver’s side door, waiting for it to open. The engine cut off. The headlights went dark.
But she didn’t get out of the car.
The seconds dragged into a minute, then two minutes.
Still she didn’t move.
Something cold settled in my stomach.
