Safe from what?
From Red?
From myself?
My hands start buzzing harder.
Demi peers closer. "What's it say?"
"Nothing," I answer too fast.
Demi's eyes narrow slightly. "Who is it?"
"My mom." I swallow and look back at my phone.
Mom: Are you safe?
The words blur for a second.
Safe.
The question splits into two inside my head.
Safe from him?
Or safe from me?
"What did she say? You look freaked out," Demi pushes.
"I'm fine," I say, but my voice thins at the edges, betraying me.
Demi reaches over slowly and takes the phone from my hand. She reads the screen. Her jaw tightens. "Oh. I see."
I whisper, "She means safe from Red."
Demi nods, but I'm not sure if she believes me.
All my brain hears is Mom's freaked-out, worried voice.
Are you stable?
Are you spiraling?
Are you about to hurt yourself?
My skin prickles harder. The buzzing spreads from my hands into my forearms. My thighs start aching with tension.
Two more texts arrive.
Mom: We are worried about you.
Mom: Please answer me.
Worried.
Answer me.
The words pile up until I can't tell if they're a concern or accusation. I murmur, "I ruined everything."
