“Just fucking delete it.” I hang up and throw my phone. Walking back to Scarlett's room, I open the door once more and see her scrolling on her phone.
“Morning, go to Ashley_Captain's page.” Scarlett sits up slowly, squinting her eyes with her movement.
“Oh-kay.” She starts typing on her phone. Then hands it to me.
“Is the video down?” My words come out coarse, with urgency. Her forehead creases, and her eyes dart across the blue-lit phone screen.
“Yeah, how did you make her take it down?” She turns her head to the side, eyeing me.
“She’s Jessica’s friend. I threatened her, and she removed it. I am going to bring you some food.” I stand up and walk away, knowing she’s disappointed in my threatening, but I couldn't care less.
My feet hit the steps as I take a few steps at a time, forcing down my rage, hoping it seeps out of the soles of my feet. Rounding the corner, I am met with the devil himself.
Grant looks down at the paper that sits in front of him. Walking to the pantry, I rip open the door, grab food, and stuff my arms full. “You can eat down here.” His voice is deep, echoing through the kitchen.
Rolling my eyes, I rolled my neck in hopes of keeping myself from becoming a raging monster, and I was so close to allowing the comment to ride. “Got something to say, boy?” I drop the boxes of food before I whip around, finding him a few steps closer.
I heave in a deep breath, “Fucking right I do, putting your fuckin’ hands on her, AGAIN. Mother always made excuses for your shitty actions, not me.” My temper is boiling, ready to explode, ready to sink my teeth into his vile black blood and drain the rotten soul from his body. Grant slaps the kitchen counter hard.
“You have no right to speak to me like that in my god damn house! You don’t like the way I do things; leave. No one is keeping you here, GO!” he yells, his anger is no match for mine, not today. I take a step closer, my neck strained, as my biceps flex and nail marks dig into the palms of my hands from squeezing my fists. “I see your rage, you're just like me, son. HIT ME!” He beats his chest like a gorilla, “HIT ME, BOY!” He yells and hits his chest again.
Looking him right in his soulless eyes, deep into whatever darkness possesses him, I bellow back, “I am NOTHIN' like you. I AM NOT YOUR SON, and I'll be damned if I EVER end up like you. I have RAGE for YOU! I would never lay my hand on a woman, fucking coward, hitting women because they don’t hit back, but I do!” I scream in his face, before turning around, grabbing the Pop-Tarts and granola bars, secretly wishing he'd take the first swing. But it never came, I stomped my way up the stairs, letting my words hit him right in his big-headed ego.
Getting to Scarlett's room, her bed is empty, but the bathroom door is shut. I set the breakfast choices out on her bed and waited for her to return. After five minutes, I knocked on the bathroom door. “You fall in or what?” She hollers that she’ll be right out.
When she emerges, the redness from her tears has faded, her breath is steady, and her hair is pulled back into a tight ponytail. “I got you what I could.” She grabs a Pop-Tart and sits on the bed. “Did you hear any of that?” She shakes her head and points to the bathroom.
“I was in there, I can't go to school for a couple days, I’ve got to wait for the swelling to go down, make-up can't cover that. Can you maybe call me out for a few days?” I nod, hating the fact that I will be layering lies on top of secrets.
We spend the day eating junk food and watching awful movies. Spencer texted me a few times, but I told him Scarlett was sick, and I was helping Grant around the house, but we could carpool tomorrow.
The night comes, but sleep doesn’t; instead, my brain runs on a wheel of wreckage our mother caused. It started with her being swept off her feet by a manipulative, drunken man of power, before ending in her quick death and our slow one.
Chapter 11
Lies & Cover Stories
Scarlett
Levi wakes me with his loud freight-train snore as he sprawls out on my bedroom floor. I want to throw a pillow at his head right now, but my body won’t allow the swift movement. Before I can formulate a plan to wake him, he yawns and stretches before sitting up and rubbing his tired eyes.
“Morning, Mater.” He turns and looks at me. “You snore like Mater from Cars. Next time you are not welcome in mybedroom, I’m sending you to the Cozy Cone.” He smirks and shakes his head.
“You and your damn Disney movies.” We both lie in our sleepy state, scrolling through our phones as we follow the usual morning routine, but I can’t go to school. I mean, I could, but that would be awful for everyone.
Levi stands up. “You need anything before I get ready? I don’t really want you going down until Grant leaves…” I give him a side glance; I know he's been keeping me safe, it’s all he's ever done. I appreciate it, I wouldn't be here without him, but it’s time I take care of myself.
“I think I’m good, thank you. I had fun watching movies until two am. Good luck at work today.” I smile, knowing I get to take a much-needed nap, while he will struggle to keep his eyes open.
“So we are on the same page, the cover story is that you have the flu. I’ll text you later today to check in. I have practice late, but I can hit the house in between work and practice.” He gives me a sad smile and folds his blanket.
Shaking my head, forcing a small smile, “No, just head straight to practice, I’ll be fine, but I will text you and keep you posted on how the day goes.” He runs his hand through his tousled curls, which refuse to obey his fingers' attempts at flattening them back into place.
“Okay, deal.” He walks out, leaving me to my morning quiet time, which is filled with scrolling through Instagram and Pinterest.
Taking a warm shower, I let the water pour over me, soaking my swollen face and sore midsection. Months—it had been months since Grant had lashed out—months since his rage fell onto me. Just when I thought maybe, just maybe, he was done using me as his punching bag, I was wrong. The water eases thepain for a short while; however, moving and breathing are still tender.
Looking out the window of Levi’s room, I watch Grant pull out of the driveway, alone at last. I grab a Pop-Tart out of the box and get situated in my bed. My phone dings.If that is Levi already, I swear to God, I am blocking his number.Looking down, Spencer’s name scrolls across my notification bar.
