Three weeks before
“Madison, get down here!” Mom’s shrill voice punctures my ear drums, yanking me out of sleep. In an instant, I’m on my feet, blinking blearily through dawn’s early light as I stumble to the door. I’m running on years of pure instinct alone as I pull the door open and rush down the stairs, knowing my time is limited before she screeches again.
“Mad—”
“Sorry, Mother,” I pant. “I’m here.”
“Were yousleeping?” she asks, like it’s such an improbable notion. I swallow down the urge to bite back, so I slip my bottom lip between my teeth and rub the sleep from my eyes. Once they’re somewhat cleared, I look out the large bay window behind her and frown.
“What time is it?”
“Six thirty.”
I blink slowly. “Okay… Y-yeah,” I clear my throat. Might as well be honest. Either way, I don’t get anywhere. “Yes, I was sleeping.”
“Why on earth were you sleeping?!”
I wince. “I—uh, I’m sorry.”
“You have that meeting with Pastor Laurence at seven to get your materials together for college!” Her face twists into an indignant frown of disappointment before she looks away to sip her tea, feigning cordial behavior once more.
My heart throbs in my chest, and I press my palm against it, but it doesn’t ease the ache. It never does.
“I-I’m sorry. I forgot.”I can’t tell her now. She’s already so mad…My eyes sting with the reality of what’s to come. Of what I’m about to do to her and Father… to our family.
Their inevitable disappointment.
“Where’s Father?”
“At the church,” she sneers like I’m stupid. “They’re setting up for vacation bible school, remember?”
“Am I to help with that, too?” I ask as I drop down in a seat opposite her. As I reach for the coffee that’s set out beside the tea, Mom slaps my hand away with a loud huff. I retract with a wince, rubbing my hand. She grabs the juice instead and fills my glass without a word. I frown at the orange liquid, staring as it settles in the crystal.
“Watch your tone, Madison.”
“I’m sorry. I’m tired.”
“An excuse.”
“Yes,” I concede, because it is.I am.
“Well, eat! You’re going to be late enough as it is.”
“Yes, ma’am.” I bring a piece of toast to my plate and take a bite of the dry bread, chewing through the paste with a lead weight in my stomach. As I’m shoving the last bite in, all too aware of Mother’s eyes pinned to the top of my head, a knock sounds at the door.
“Get that, would you!” Mom shouts at Roman. My eyebrows furrow as I trace the wood grain.
“Pastor Laurence, ma’am.” Roman nods before exiting, closing the sliding doors behind him. The large room, encased mostly with glass windows, suddenly feels so small, too hot. Gooseflesh prickles along my exposed forearms, and I’m more than aware of my messy bedhead. I reach up to smooth it the best I can.
“Hello, Pastor. Good to see you.” My mother pushes from her chair. “Madison,” she hisses, and I’m instantly reminded of my manners. I shove away from the table, and the scratch of the chair legs against the wooden floor brings a flush of heat to my cheeks as I reach out to shake the pastor’s hand, hating the way my stomach aches and my body feels too hot, heart hammering erratically in my chest.
“Good morning, Pastor.”
“Madison.” He nods.
“What brings you by?” I feel my mom’s glare like hot coals on bare skin.
Pastor Laurence can’t hide his confused frown. “Our meeting, of course. With you starting college this fall, we’ve got to get your materials ready to go. Starting with your required internship with me throughout your first year, which is namely what I wanted to discuss today.”
