I’m forbidden from seeing Zach.
And she’s reached out to Wes to find out how I can make it up to him.
I almost lost my breakfast when she admitted that last one because I’m pretty sure rape and sodomy are high on his list of punishments, and that’s only for starters.
If I refuse to cooperate, she’s throwing me out.
Dad wasn’t any help, and his disappointment in me felt like he drove a dagger into my heart.
He’s been a little confusing to figure out recently. In one breath, he’s on my side, and in the next, he’s siding with Mom.
Still, didn’t he know I was a gnat’s ass away from relapsing?
I realize I’m on my own again, and watch out world, because Molly, here I come. Scar’s my best friend, but Molly just might take her spot.
When Monday rolls around, I’m like an eager puppy at the front door waiting to be walked.
“You will attend classes, and your tutor sessions, and then it’s straight home,” Mom reminds me as I’m halfway out the door.
Fuck. You.
I think it, but I don’t say it. Because she has me in a bind, and she knows it.
Anytime I step out of line, she threatens to disown me. I’ve thought of calling her bluff, but she’s a heartless bitch, and I cannot afford to be out on my ass with no roof over my head or money in my pocket. I need money. I need Molly. And I need to stay in college and get my degree, because it’s my ticket out of here. And frankly, I don’t want to give her the satisfaction of seeing me grovel because, honestly, I think she’d enjoy that.
So, I keep my insults to myself and walk out of the house without uttering a word.
“I can’t believe your parents grounded you,” Zach says, stealing a fry off my plate as we sit with Scar at lunchtime in the dingy diner. We chose a place off campus, rather than eating in the cafeteria, in case we bump into Mom or one of her many spies.
I look outside, through a layer of grime coating the window, absently watching a clerk sweeping the sidewalk outside the convenience store across the street. I swivel in my seat, my gaze skimming over the room. This place could use a facelift, as I doubt the décor has been upgraded since it first opened if the peeling wallpaper, stains on the ceiling, and worn tables are any indication.
But it’s clean inside, and the food is good. And, most importantly, if offers us privacy.
“It’s like being fifteen all over again,” I admit, stabbing a piece of lettuce with my fork.
“She’s such a bitch,” Scar seethes, opening her mouth wide and biting into her burger. “I wish I’d been there. I would’ve loved to rip off Wes’s balls with my bare hands.”
Zach and I chuckle. It took both of us to try to put the hurt on Wes, but the fucker is strong. Not to mention, he’d probably enjoy Scar’s rough hands on him.
“I’m used to it.” I shrug.
Zach touches the cut over his eye that’s crusted into a scab. “Why does she treat you like that?”
“She’s always hated me,” I admit, taking a sip of my water. My mind wanders back in time. “There was this one occasion, when I was seven, when I fell down the stairs during one of her dinner parties. She’d put me to bed, but I’d snuck into her room because I loved trying on her shoes and wearing her makeup. I’d thought it was a good idea to come downstairs to show her me in a pair of her highest heels, but I tripped on the carpet at the top of the landing and tumbled down to the bottom of the stairs.” I drag my lip between my teeth as I stare off into space. “She was furious when she found me, plastered in her makeup, with the heel on her favorite shoe broken, crying in a ball as she loomed over me, giving me one of her special stink-eye stares.”
I swipe at a stray tear. “Oh, she acted the doting mother in front of her friends, but as soon as I was upstairs in my room, she slapped me across the face and told me I was a disgrace and an embarrassment.” I rub at the ache slicing across my chest. “Then she told me something I’ve never been able to forget.”
“What did the bitch say?” Scar asks, pausing with her glass halfway to her mouth.
“She said she wished I’d never been born. That I was a mistake and I’d ruined her life because she’d never intended to have kids.” Every time I replay that conversation, my chest constricts and the need to wash away the pain is stronger than ever.
“Fuck.” Zach leans across the table, taking my hand. “That’s rough. She’s a complete cow and not worthy of your love, anyway.”
I shrug, because I’m not sure what I believe anymore. “I can’t ever do right by her. I’m a complete fuckup in her eyes, and she loves taunting me with that.”
Scar visibly swallows as she sets her glass down. “Why does your dad stay with her?” She rests her elbows on the table.
“They stay together for appearance’s sake.” I tear a napkin to shreds, piece by piece, wishing for a better life. Wishing my parents loved me. But everyone knows what they say about wishful thinking.
